


Remember Me

by Kimanaio



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mutual Pining, Smut, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:30:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 30,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4371932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimanaio/pseuds/Kimanaio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fenris confronts Hadriana, he's met with Danarius as well. Taken by surprise and not powerful enough to defeat the magister, Lissa Hawke and her companions are overpowered by Danarius and Fenris is taken. A few months later, Fenris returns to Kirkwall- memory wiped- sent by Danarius to kill Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taken- Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Surfer_Girl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Surfer_Girl/gifts).



> I'm sorry, the titles of this fic are going to get funnier as time goes on. I have to keep the humor there or I'll just start crying. Dedicating this after 10 chapters to Surfer_Girl for keeping me inspired and making me pick this back up after so many months.

Fenris sliced through a slaver, his blade cracking the wood of his enemy's bow and embedding itself in their rib cage. As he whirled around to incapacitate another foe, an arrow whizzed past his head and pinned a mage through his neck to the wall, followed by a whoop from across the room. Lissa Hawke was grinning, already stringing another arrow to take down more of the Tevinter slave hunters that had come to capture Fenris. Merril stood near Hawke, pulling magic from the steady stream of blood that oozed from their enemies, using it to unleash devastating lightning bolts and blue fire that danced around the room. Isabela would disappear and reappear periodically, slicing necks and hamstrings before jumping away to another target. Fenris channeled energy into his lyrium markings, feigning fatigue to draw enemies closer, then released a powerful spirit pulse. The room was clear, and the four regrouped, wiping blood from their hands and faces.  
"Well, that was successful! Fenris, are you sure you're ready to face Hadriana?"  
Her blue eyes were full of concern, head cocked to the side. She was worried that the fight would bring back painful memories, ones that she knew he wouldn't want to revisit. 

"More than ready. She needs to die." He growled in return, leveling his gaze with hers, reassuring Hawke with his eyes as much as his words.

  
They cautiously moved through the hallway to the next room, assuming they'd meet Hadriana there given the heavy number of guards that they'd just faced. Their assumptions were correct, and the battle that followed was brutal. Too much blood was shed. Merrill was almost killed by a blow to her head that her barrier barely blocked, Isabela nursing a gash on her leg that refused to stop bleeding. Hawke was suffering from a dislocated arm, her bow broken on the ground, watching as Fenris knelt at Hadriana's side. She pleaded for her life, bargaining knowledge of his sister for her life. Fenris agreed, but crushed her heart in her chest all the same. Hawke laid her good hand on his shoulder, and he brushed it off.

"Fenris, are you okay?" She asked softly.  
"No," He was clenching his fists, glaring at Hadriana's body. "My sister, Lissa. I have a sister. I- I need air."  
Before Fenris could leave, a shadowed figure appeared in the doorway. The white-haired elf froze, a strangled no escaping his throat.  
"Fenris, little wolf. What have you done?" a sinister voice dripped from the figure, chilling Hawke to her bones.  
"Danarius." Fenris breathed, and Merrill gasped, scooting away from the magister.

  
Fenris wasted no time attacking, his full force directed at the man in the door. He was stopped by a barrier, and from nowhere a rogue appeared and knocked him aside, disarming him. Other enemies began appearing into the room, hidden by magic and stealth. Lissa felt her injured arm wrench backwards, and the pain screamed through her shoulder. She dropped to her knees and felt a blade press to her neck. Isabela and Merrill were put in similar situations, leaving Fenris standing alone. Danarius stalked over to him, an awful grin on his face.  
"Fenris, you killed my helper- Now I have to kill yours. It's only fair, which is more than you deserve, slave."

  
Hawke protested, shouting profanities at her captors, Isabela joining her. Merrill was shaking, trying to summon power from the blood leaking out of her wounds. Her captor noticed, striking her with the handle of their blade, knocking Merrill out.  
"Look, Fenris. They're suffering because of you- Put them out of their misery. Kill them, like you killed the last group that sheltered you." Danarius gestured with his staff, inviting Fenris to do his bidding.  
"Never." Fenris hissed, moving to attack Danarius instead.  
Mages moved to immobilize him, stopping the elf in his tracks. Danarius clicked his tongue condescendingly, shaking his head.  
"Fenris, I offered you a chance to make their deaths quick. Now you've disappointed me. Chain him!" The last words were directed at the slavers, who moved in to take Fenris down.  
The struggle was harsh and long- it ended with Fenris slammed to the ground and tied with lyrium imbued chains to counteract his abilities. Lissa was sobbing by the time he was captured, her voice hoarse from screaming in protest. Fenris was facing her, and he mouthed "I'm sorry" to her before jerking his head up to look at Danarius.  
"Danarius, if you let them go, I will go with you willingly. If you leave them unharmed, alive, you will never hear another protest from me for the rest of my life. Please." He was almost begging, his voice broken. He couldn't look at Lissa, couldn't bear to see her face when he made the offer.

  
He was right to not look, but that didn't stop him from hearing her shouting.  
"Fen, Fenris no, Maker no! You- don't sacrifice your freedom for us. Fenris, look at me, please!" She was desperate, straining against her captor despite the searing pain in her arm, her words dissolving into quiet sobs and protests.  
Danarius looked to her, striding over to the young woman and bending down to look at her. Hawke glared at him, jaw clenched, silent. He gently brushed his fingers across her cheek, a sad look on his face.  
"My, you would make a lovely pet. Fenris' new mistress, I presume? How dear it is, he always needs to follow someone."  
Lissa spat at him, jerking away from his hand, and Fenris was just as enraged.  
"Don't fucking touch her." Fenris snarled, drawing Danarius' attention back to the elf.  
"Attached? Perhaps your offer is sincere. Not a single protest? Whatever I wish, little wolf?" The slave master's tongue wet his lips, and his voice was eager and sinister.  
Fenris shuddered, recalling memories of the abuse, the pain, but nodded. Lissa had fallen silent, staring helplessly as Fenris agreed, feeling her heart shatter. The man she loved was about to give up everything for her, for her friends. Danarius pondered the offer, then agreed. He slammed his staff to the ground, tendrils of magic slicing through the air towards Hawke and her companions. She felt herself losing consciousness, fading out, the last word on her lips the name of her lover. Fenris watched as the two women that were still conscious fell to the ground, released by their captors. Danarius jerked Fenris' bindings, dragging him to his feet.  
"Fetch that sword, it's powerful. We'll take it with us." He ordered, and one of his servants grabbed it, Hawke's red silk sash wrapped around the hilt.


	2. Rip My Heart Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the months after Fenris' capture, Hawke throws herself into destroying the slave trade in Kirkwall. Meanwhile, Fenris is doing everything he can to regain his memories- a face haunts his dreams, and he needs to discover who it belongs to.

Lissa Hawke didn't leave her house for a week. Leandra didn't even try to get her daughter to move; she remembered how it felt when she lost Malcom, how everything seemed gray and distant. Aveline was the one that finally got through to Hawke, using the excuse that she needed the rogue for a job. If there was anything that would get Hawke's mind in the right place, it would be 'killing some bad guys,' as Merrill put it. The ginger warrior knocked solidly on Lissa's door, and was met with a sharp rebuke.

"I told you, Bodahn, I'm not hungry! Can't you people leave me alone?" Hawke's voice sounded muffled, and Aveline figured she was under the blankets.

She knocked again, this time adding "Hawke, it's me. Open the door. Now."

There was silence, then shuffling. Aveline heard a lock coming loose, and the door slowly swung open. Lissa stood in the doorway wrapped in a blanket and puffy-eyed, clear blue irises highlighted by the red of her face. Her hair was a mess, strands sticking up at every odd angle, and she smelled.

"Oh, Lissa, what's become of you? Have you even bathed?" Aveline asked, a gentle hand on the younger woman's shoulder. Hawke scoffed, eyes cast down, and replied "Yeah, Mother forced me to a few days ago. Said I was stinking up the house."

"Hawke, this isn't like you. I have something to get you out of the house though, if you'd like. There's a group of slavers that's been outed to the guard. They've got a shipment coming in today from the south, and I could use another Ferelden on this job." Lissa perked up at the mention of Ferelden, and the pleading look on Aveline's face was enough to convince her.

"Alright, alright, I'll go. But no side tracks, I need to wallow in self pity and guilt for at least another three days," Hawke conceded, laughing cynically. The guard-captain smiled; at least Hawke hadn't lost her humor.

It didn't take long for Hawke to get back into the swing of things when she finally stepped out the door in her armor. Leandra sent her off with a smile and a gentle reminder that life goes on, no matter the pain in one's heart. Lissa had chuckled, thanking her for the cheery advice. It was a brisk morning in early spring, most of the winter chill dissipating within hours of the sunrise. Aveline gave Hawke a summation of recent events in Kirkwall, and she gushed about Donnic as usual. She was so happy with him that Hawke felt a bit better in her own heart, recalling her last night at Fenris' mansion, not two weeks before. They'd finished two bottles of wine and took turns making fun of the Kirkwall nobility. Her gut twisted into a tight knot when she thought about him, and with a deep breath, Lissa banished the thought. Aveline's relative cheer was banished when Hawke announced her intentions to take Isabela on this trip, and the captain groaned. They'd just arrived at the Hanged Man.

"Really, we have to take her? Here I thought we were stopping to get Varric. I like Varric." Hawke rolled her eyes and meandered inside, walking over to the table where Isabela was telling sea stories. She sat down on the pirates lap, interrupting the story and throwing an arm around her neck. 

"Isabela, darling, I have need of you  _right now._ Don't keep me waiting, you harlot~" Hawke winked, then made a point of walking away with her hips swinging. Isabela bid her audience farewell, trailing behind Hawke eagerly. Her expression dropped when she saw Aveline waiting outside, arms crossed.

"Haaawwwke, that was a rotten trick. Here I was thinking you were taking me up on the pity sex offer. Damn," Isabela whined, sticking her tongue out at Aveline. "So, what do you need me for that's so important?" She asked, getting as serious as Isabela could be.

"Well, there's slavers transporting Fereldens on the docks, and I'm not about to stand for that. Up for a little bloodshed?" Lissa explained, starting the group off towards the alienage to pick up Merrill. Isabela agreed, commenting that she just sharpened her daggers this morning.

Upon arrival at Merrill's home, the young elf was ecstatic to see Hawke. She almost tackled Lissa, her voice muffled into Hawke's shoulder, "Oh Lissa it's been a week and you just disappeared and I was ever so worried about you, I know how much Fenris meant- means! to you," she stuttered about for a moment, trying to find the right words to comfort her friend.

Lissa put the girl out of her misery by holding her small shoulders and smiling, interrupting with "Merrill, darling, it's good to see you. I need your help with some slavers on the docks. Wanna come?" Merrill nodded furiously, gathering her things quickly. She'd picked up Hadrianna's staff, which channeled blood magic well. Hawke didn't like seeing it, but she couldn't deny it's effectiveness.

It was steadily approaching 10, which was when the deal was apparently going to occur. These people were obviously confident in their abilities, doing the exchange in broad daylight with no care for law enforcement. What they weren't counting on, however, was a certain angry Ferelden with a lot of stress to work out. Hawke and company waited for the slave hunters and buyers to meet in one of the warehouses, then sealed the exits. Hawke, with little regard for her life, decided to do this the fun way. She burst into the main meeting area with a flourish of smoke provided by Merrill, acting by all accounts as an idiot.  Aveline worried she was purposefully endangering herself.

"Hello ladies and gentlemen, I see you're here to negotiate a deal! I have just the solution for you!" She shouted, perching on the stairs that led to the group. "If you let my fellow Fereldens go now, I'll kill you quickly! But if you don't..." She trailed off, drawing her bow and nocking an arrow. "Well, it will be painful and probably very very bloody. I personally don't want to wash my hair again today, so I'd advise option number one."

 

They didn't pick option one. None of the slavers, for months after that, ever picked option one. Hawke always left the last man alive, though, so that word of her vengeance would reach Danarius- She wanted Fenris back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Fenris awoke with pain pulsing through his markings and the sound of a woman screaming still ringing in his skull. He'd been haunted by the same nightmare every time he closed his eyes. It was the same thing every time- a woman, bloody and broken with a knife to her throat, screaming his name. The taste of dirt and defeat in his mouth, fingers slippery with blood, and he could never move, or do anything for that matter. The overwhelming desire to protect her always came with these visions, driving him to anger every morning. He remembered nothing about her before waking up in Danarius' mansion, and after interrogating the other slaves, he came to understand that he'd escaped for three years. What he did during those years, they did not know, or did not care to tell him. All Fenris knew is that they were wiped completely from his mind, and Danarius kept him under incredibly close watch. His duties were the same as 'before,' but he didn't think of time as before and after. He just knew that one day he was young and light, and the next his heart weighed on him like lead and his body was tighter than a bowstring. 

"Fenris, the master requires your presence for breakfast." A meek voice interrupted his thoughts, one of the new slaves, still skittish in his presence after three months. He nodded at her silently, and the little elf left his room as fast as her legs could carry her. He grunted in disgust at the way the others acted around him, as if he were any better than they. As Fenris dressed in his armor, he felt cheated. Three years of his memory wiped, not by his markings, but by some form of blood magic he was sure. Then another 20 at least, all stolen by Danarius. The elf would've killed him if he thought he could do so alone. 

Breakfast was an elaborate affair, as always, but Danarius seemed angry that morning. Two of Danarius' men were holding a half-dead slaver from another house between them, and Fenris tensed. He had the same wound on his cheek that all of the other slavers did, and they had only started arriving recently. A long slice up the side of the right cheek, from mouth to temple, stylized like an arrow. It looked painful. 'Hawke.' He thought, recalling the name from some of Danarius' previous conversations.

He heard the end of a conversation, the first man saying "-House Levorin has stated that this is your fault, by extension, given this events' connection with your property," The mans eyes cast a disdainful look at Fenris, who had to restrain the urge to sneer, "And they're demanding recompense. This man has the same message as the last five did. 'Give him back.' However, this isn't the only issue pertaining to this matter." The second man produced two silk-covered boxes, both elaborately decorated and beautiful.

"Have you opened these?" Danarius asked, eyeing the packages with suspicion as they were placed on the table.

"No master, only the arrow on the letter has clued us in on the relation." 

Danarius frowned, and motioned for Fenris. The elf approached, and was swiftly ordered to open the box. "No telling what magic could be in these," the magister muttered, and Fenris opened the smaller box first. Inside was a work of art, in his eyes. A beautiful arrow, bleached white wood fletched in gorgeous red-tailed hawk feathers with an obsidian arrowhead lay encased in plush, dark blue velvet, with a note attached to the lid of the box. Fenris gave the note to Danarius, as he could not read it, but noted the wings that edged the words. " _To remind you of what you have started."_ Danarius laughed, holding the exquisite weapon in his hands. "You, mount this for me and set it in my study. It's a worthy challenge," he said to one of his attendants, who quickly left to follow his orders. "Now, open the other."

Fenris had a bad feeling in his stomach about this one, and his instincts were right. There was a severed head inside. And not just any severed head. Fenris recognized it as the man who brought in almost all of the slaves Danarius had purchased. There were feathers sticking out from the mans mouth, and his eyes were gone. The magister clenched his fists, and not a moment later, the box was incinerated. "This woman wants to start a war, does she? Then I will oblige. Fenris, you're going on a job." The elf swallowed nervously- he hadn't seen Danarius this angry in a long time.

Danarius gathered the team of specially trained fighters that he used to guard Fenris, and the group was briefed on their job. They were to hunt down this 'Lissa Hawke' and kill her, bringing her body back to be made an example of. Danarius kept him in his study after dismissing the rest, and he felt something was wrong. "Fenris, little wolf, I can see you trying to run as we speak. Do you think I would ask you to do something so awful without recompense? Come here." Fenris reluctantly approached, shuddering as Danarius reached up to pet his hair. "You have a younger sister, Fenris. Her name is Varania, and she works for me."

Fenris was blindsided. He had family? He had a sister, and she was under the orders of this slimy, disgusting abuser. He had family. "I have... A sister? Is she a slave?" He managed to ask, voice wavering. 

"Yes, you pretty fool, she's a slave. She's young and beautiful and brilliant, and I will give her freedom for your compliance. Hawke's head for your sister's freedom? I'll even let you see her before you go. And if you get the job done quickly... Perhaps I'll consider letting you live not as a slave, but as a free man. Under my command of course, but still a citizen of the Imperium." Danarius' voice was sickeningly smooth, and Fenris could do nothing but nod. _Freedom._ The word shot through Fenris' body like a lighting bolt. 

As if on cue, the study doors opened, and a young elven woman was unceremoniously shoved into the study. Her eyes were the same sparkling olive that Fenris saw in his own, and some part of him cried out in familiarity. Still, the fear in her face, her movements, were almost artificial. She approached Fenris hesitantly, then let out a choked sob. "Fenris, it is you, isn't it? Oh, when the master told me I- I didn't want to believe it." She hugged him, but Fenris was stiff and didn't reciprocate. Something had to be wrong here, he felt it in his gut. She smiled softly at him, but Danarius quickly ordered her away. She left Fenris with a tearful wave, and his fists clenched. Whether she was his true sister or not, he would not deny the woman a life of freedom.

"You will let her go free?" He asked, staring at the desk, unable to meet his master's eyes.

"I will let her go with my blessing, Fenris. And you know I won't go back on that, I always honor my word. Now go prepare, little wolf. This will be difficult." With those words, Fenris left his master's study, bowing low. His respect for this Hawke was not enough to stop his task- He'd kill this woman, and his remaining family would go free. With luck, Varania could tell him about his past before she left. He grabbed his blade from the armory, curious to this day where it came from. He did not remember Danarius giving it to him, nor did he remember getting it himself. It was one of the few things left from his time on the run. Fenris fondly wrapped the red silk sash through his fingers, the loose ends of the fabric trailing from the hilt. He would free his sister, and if he was lucky, escape himself.

 

Two months later, they arrived in Kirkwall. None of the information on Hawke could have prepared him for the sight of her, bloody from battle and as beautiful as the face in his sleep.

 

 

 


	3. Here There be Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke can't believe her eyes, and Fenris can't believe his heart. Something is telling him to keep her safe, but she won't get within three feet of him.

The day Fenris arrived, Sandal had given Hawke a gift. A beautiful yew longbow, stained dark. The ends were capped in intricate silver swirls, little feathers painstakingly shaped into the metal. The grip was soft and wrapped in dark leather and silver cords, but most stunning of all were the carvings along the entire bow. The whole thing was covered in what was essentially a giant lyrium rune. The patterns mimicked Fenris' markings, and Hawke cried when she saw them. Sandal was worried, his face concerned at her tears, but when she hugged him and thanked him, he excitedly declared "Enchantment!" and hugged her back. The lyrium made the bow shoot with much harder force, Bodahn explained, as he saw Sandal testing it out. The arrows were strong enough to knock down a large marble statue in the courtyard- Luckily, Hawke didn't care. She vowed to test the bow that day, fawning over it every moment she could. She spent a few hours fletching new arrows from her own stock of feathers, collected over their adventures. Most of the feathers were a soft black from the geese that were so common on Sundermount. Goose feathers held up best in bad weather, she'd found. But there were a select few arrows she fletched with hawk feathers. They flew the truest and fastest, but were valuable. She kept them in a special part of her quiver, guarded from the elements. 

Hawke did get a chance to test the bow that day, as it turned out. A frantic knock on her door drew Hawke to the sight of a group of elves cowering together, quite the sight in Hightown. "Hello, how may I be of assistance?" She asked, getting the attention of the man who appeared to be their leader.

"Messere! Messere Hawke we were told you could help us. Our master, he lives nearby, and he's gone mad! He killed my cousin and is threatening the rest of us with death. Please, you have to save him!" Lissa was confused at first that the slaves would want to  _help_ their master, but she agreed all the same, grabbing her weapon and following them to a mansion nearby. She felt the tingle of magic raise the hairs on the back of her neck, but she kicked in the front door all the same. She was met with demons.

"Yeah, I think you should go hide at my place, okay? There's an abomination in here," Hawke warned, shooing them off. Shades turned to her voice, and she grinned. One shot from the bow sent the first creature stumbling backwards, and a laugh bubbled from her lips. "Oh Sandal, you're a hero!" She shouted, going to town on the three demons. One got too close for comfort, and she drew the dagger at her side, stabbing it. The lightning enchantment took, sending a shock through the bastard and dissolving it. It felt good to do this on her own, she mused.

It didn't take long to find the source of the demons- The master of the house, apparently a mage that had escaped Meredith's notice, had been possessed by a despair demon. Hawke  _hated_ despair demons. She started to hate this one in particular when it looked at her with those beady dark eyes and hissed out " _Carver. Bethany. Fenrisss._ _"_ The creature hissed the last name, feeling the well hidden cracks in Hawke's heart grow larger. "Alright, now its personal, fucker." She deadpanned, pursing her lips. She pulled a flask from her side, silently praying that the smoke would work on this specific brand of demon. Turns out, it did, which let her put an arrow into its back before closing in with her dagger. She stabbed into it's ragged body, and the cold spiked up her arm. There was something very wrong about this demon. She felt the dagger drop from her hand as her fingers refused to move, and the demon screeched with what she assumed was laughter. The chill started to spread across the rest of her body, and she felt herself slow down, cursing the magic and wishing she had help right about now. She wondered if Bodahn would've called for Aveline by now, and hoped at least someone was on their way; then she heard a familiar hum and both dread and relief flooded her mind. _  
_

 

* * *

  

Fenris had a plan, and as far as he was concerned, it was a good one. Hawke had close friends, and they were all very strong and protective. To kill her, he'd have to get close to her, then stab her in the back and be gone before anyone knew what had happened. Given that everyone he spoke to painted her as a very friendly, open individual, he assumed he'd have no trouble. But the people of Kirkwall knew better. Word traveled quickly that Fenris had been taken, so when he reappeared asking for information about Lissa, there was some confusion. Varric heard before anyone else, but he couldn't get to Hawke to tell her in time. 

Fenris arrived in Hightown to see a large commotion in a manor nearby. A group of elven slaves were cowering, and he asked them what was going on. They told him Hawke was fighting an abomination alone in their master's home, and he decided to check it out. If she truly was alone, and already weakened, his job had just become significantly easier. Perhaps Danarius would even reward him for his speed. Fenris shook his head at that thought, still kicking himself for trying to please Danarius. He heard screeching and shouting from inside, feeling the characteristic cold of a despair demon. His markings glowed, and he drew his blade. He'd have to kill the demon first. He sprinted up the stairs, ready to fight, but he wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him. On her knees, ice magic spreading across her armor, was the woman who haunted him.

Hawke locked eyes with Fenris and she looked terrified. He looked the same, because he was terrified, really and truly, for only the third time in his life. He felt an overwhelming urge to save this woman, this key to his past, his chest tightening with emotions he couldn't describe. The demon between them was forgotten as Hawke couldn't find a single word to express both her fear and her excitement, but then she came to her senses and thought that perhaps this was an illusion created by the demon, or another one altogether. That thought was banished as Fenris cleaved through the despair demon, banishing it and using his abilities to clear the magic from the area. 

"Hawke, I assume?" He said, extending a clawed gauntlet to help her up. She was still weak from the cold, but didn't take his hand. Her eyes were glued to his, ' _Maker, how blue they are_ ,' Fenris wondered as she stared him down.

"Yes, Lissa Hawke. Who are you? And why did you save me?" She restrained her voice to harsh neutrality; anything else would've broken her. She got up shakily, making a point of doing it by herself. Her knees were weak from the fight and from the meeting, but she couldn't let that show. Fenris frowned, skeptical. She acted like she didn't know him... but her attitude went against everything he'd learned about her. No friendliness, no humor, nothing he'd been told to expect. Something was off.

"My name is Fenris, and I saved you because someone said you needed help, and I've been looking for you." Simplicity, Fenris decided, was the best approach. Hawke was very concerned by those words, and was about to inquire why when Aveline burst into the room behind Fenris. She froze when she saw the characteristic white hair and spines of Fenris' armor, and looked to Hawke for guidance. Fenris drew his blade and moved into a defensive position, suspicious of the ginger warrior.

Hawke stepped closer to Fenris and shook her head at Aveline, calmly saying "Aveline, this is Fenris. He saved me from the abomination here. Fenris, this is Guard-Captain Aveline, a friend." The elf lowered his greatsword, inclining his head respectfully towards her.

"The captain of the Kirkwall guard is a fine friend indeed." He commented, taking the moment to turn back to Hawke.

"So, Fenris, you were looking for me?" Hawke prodded, still carefully choosing her words.

"Yes," he replied, sheathing his weapon, "I escaped from my master on our way to Kirkwall, and he's attempting to recapture me. I inquired as to who would be best able to assist, and all leads pointed to you." She pursed her lips and appraised him, looking for the ticks that she knew meant Fenris was lying. Lo and behold, his fingers were dancing across his thigh, but she let it slide.

"Well, Fenris, I owe you my life. I believe helping you would be an appropriate repayment. Aveline? Thoughts?" The ginger glared at Hawke, trying to understand why she was being so lenient, but agreed anyways.

"Do you have a place to stay, Fenris?" She asked, "If not, I can offer you temporary quarters in the barracks." Fenris seemed grateful, but turned her down.

"I have made arrangements, Guard-captain. There are many places in this city my master owns, but has forgotten. A mansion in Hightown, actually." He didn't know how he knew about the place, but his mind seemed to fill in that it was once Danarius'. Hawke looked at him, puzzled, but Aveline's words cut in.

"Alright. I'll be keeping an eye on you. Hawke, if I may, I need to discuss a job." Hawke bid Fenris farewell, and the two women left. Fenris sat in the room for an hour, trying to process what he'd seen. 

Hawke. Lissa Hawke. His past was thrown in his face, no longer something he could ignore for the sake of sanity. Varania seemed in good shape, perhaps she could survive a few days longer until he could get more information about this woman and quell the pounding in his chest. 

 

* * *

 

 

The moment Lissa was out of that house, she sprinted back to her manor, Aveline close behind. The group of elves were still milling about the Amell residence, and Hawke told them they were free, much to their joy. She even got a hug from the smallest, a little girl no older than 10. That was enough to pull her back from the brink of tears for a moment, but when Aveline held her and the door was shut, the dam broke and Hawke's world finally rocked.

"Aveline, you saw him. You know it was him. Why is he back? Why doesn't he remember?" She gasped, asking questions she already knew the answers to. Leandra swept her daughter into her arms and earned a grateful look from Aveline, hushing Lissa gently.

"My dear songbird, what's wrong?" She cooed, knowing that of all the times to coddle Hawke, it was now.

"Oh, mother, it's Fenris. He's returned, and he doesn't remember a thing! I think he's here to kill me. I saw him lie and I don't buy his 'asking for help' act for a second." Leandra felt the tension in her daughters shoulders, and realized the situation she was in.

"Lissa, if that man lays a finger on you I will have all of Kirkwall and half of Starkhaven hunting him down, led by me, and closely followed by Aveline, I imagine."

Aveline agreed, adding "Hawke, he didn't kill you when you two were alone, why do you suspect that?" Hawke sniffled and looked at them like it was obvious.

"I threatened Danarius, and I told him to give Fenris back. If I were in his shoes, I'd have sent Fen to kill me, too. For the irony, you know? That's how those high and mighty bastards work." She dried her eyes on her bloodied sleeve and frowned. "I need to clean my armor." She muttered, and Aveline knew Hawke was redirecting the conversation. 

"Lissa?" 

"Aveline?"

"I know you know where he lives, but please, don't go see him tonight without one of us."

"Yeah, Aveline. I know."

 

 

 

 


	4. Little White Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody is ever honest with themselves.

Hawke spent the day making plans to talk to her friends, getting ready to leave, and then losing her nerve. How was she supposed to tell everyone that Fenris was back and they were supposed to treat him like he was a new person? Anders in particular worried her, because while she knew he'd respect her request to treat Fenris with care, she wasn't sure how his hostilities would fare this time around. She suspected his recommendation would be to kick Fenris out of Kirkwall and watch her back until the day someone else killed her- because honestly, she thought, there was no way she'd die of natural causes. By all accounts, she probably should've been killed already. 

Lissa wandered down to the kitchen, Odin dragging himself away from the fire to follow her in hopes of getting food. She pet her mabari and fed him the heel of the bread she was slicing, and she grabbed some butter to spread on it. Hawke had always been fond of the simple things, probably because of childhood life in Lothering. The butter was delicious, almost sweet, and it melted in her mouth delectably. That was one thing she would never grow tired of- good food. A knock at the door drew her attention and Lissa, unwilling to leave her snack, stuck the bread in her mouth and went to answer the intrusion. Varric was at the door, out of breath and more distressed than she'd ever seen him.

"Varric, what's wrong?" She asked through the bread, ushering him inside.

"Bluebell, I have news. Really really weird news. I don't know if it's good or bad, but it's definitely news, and you may want to sit down and take that bread out of your mouth." He said, pacing nervously. She did take the bread out of mouth, if only to grin mischievously.

"Wait wait, Varric, let me guess. Fenris is back." Lissa interrupted, struggling to keep a straight face. Varric looked surprised, but narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized Hawke.

"Blue, how did you know that?" Varric's voice was balancing on the edge of curious and concerned, so Lissa indulged him.

"Well, let me tell you about the day I've had. First, a bunch of little elves needed my help with their crazy master down the street. Then, turns out that master was an abomination!" She stuck the bread in her mouth to free up her hands, flourishing them in the air to imitate the magic. "So I go to kill the guy, and he's a despair demon, right? I stab it, and my whole body starts freezing. I'm probably about two minutes away from becoming a genuine Lissa-cicle when  _Fenris_ shows up. You know, I really thought he was a demon for the first couple seconds, but he killed the actual demon and then just, introduced himself! The way he looked at me, I swear he recognized me for a moment, but alas, no luck there. So then Aveline shows up and she's freaked out too, then Fen says he's staying back in his old mansion, so Aveline and I are both confused, and then I end up back home as a big sobbing mess. But all of those nasty emotions are back under my heel where they belong, so good news!" The last few lines were enthusiastic, but Varric frowned. 

"Lissa, that's a lot to process, and I really should've brought some paper, but are you okay?" He asked, lacing his fingers together like he always did when he was upset.

"Varric," Hawke chastised, "I'm fine, honestly. Okay, I'm mostly fine," she added when her friend gave her a hard stare. Varric seemed satisfied with that answer, then grabbed one of Lissa's hands.

"Bluebell, you have to promise me you won't do anything rash until we have a big group talk about this, okay? Tomorrow is Wicked Grace night, we can all chat then. Alright?" He was genuinely worried about her, and she felt the same twinge of guilt in her stomach as when she promised Aveline the same thing.

"I won't, Varric."

 

~~_Liar_ ~~

 

* * *

 

Fenris was sitting in the pool of light shining in from the single window facing the south. Danarius obviously had an aversion to sunlight, and when Fenris thought back to the manor in Tevinter, he recalled a suspicious lack of windows.  _'_ _Perhaps sunlight will kill him',_ he thought, chuckling to himself. If only it were so easy. He examined his hands, grimacing at the way the lyrium curved over his veins and knuckles. They were almost shimmering in the light, and he wondered if perhaps, to an outsider, they might be considered beautiful. To him, they were a branding and a disgusting reminder that he would never belong to himself. He sent a surge of energy through them, the pain waking up his senses and drawing Fenris to his feet. He had to explore this place, not wallow in introspection all day- besides, if he distracted himself, the image of that woman might leave his mind.  _  
_

The manor itself was sparsely decorated- and it looked like it had been looted more than once. Broken chairs and half-empty bookshelves were dusty and frosted with cobwebs, and even those inhabitants had left their nests empty. Anything this place had to offer had long been stolen. Fenris came across what looked like a livable bedroom, although the bedding itself looked... subpar. The kitchen was empty and littered with dead mice, drawing a grimace to the elf's face. He had some work cut out for him, to make this place livable. As he took stock of the rooms, the only things that looked even partially used were the two rather luxurious chairs in the main room in front of the fireplace. He was wholly unsatisfied with the arrangement until he stumbled upon a sturdy locked door in the cellar and broke it open. Inside was wine, and a large amount of it.  _Good_ wine. That drew an honest grin to his face, and Fenris began to wonder if staying was worth it. He knew his guards would be watching this place like a hawk _'Hawke,'_ since he made it his base of operations, and relished the idea of throwing this small victory in their faces. Fenris tried to gloss over the name as it shot through his head, but none such luck.

He ran a hand through his pale hair and let his forehead fall into the cellar door with a heavy thud, exasperated at the amount of times he'd thought of that woman since he met her. It had barely been three hours, and it was all he could do to focus on something else. He had to figure out her significance, why she was so important to his subconscious that she'd stuck there through blood magic and whatever else Danarius had done to him. "Lissa," he said, rolling the name off of his tongue, and he pursed his lips. It was a smooth word, and he wondered if it was shortened from something. Alyssa, Elissa, Felicity? Why did he even _care?_   Some part of his mind filled in that it wasn't a nickname, and his curiosity was satisfied for a moment. That is, until he started wondering how he knew that. What key did she hold to his memories that worked so well, and why couldn't he remember anything relevant? 

In his frustration, Fenris slammed the cellar door shut, knocking it half off of it's hinges, but he didn't notice. He was already halfway up the stairs, heading for his spot in the sunshine. The warmth helped him think. He convinced himself that he'd focus on ways to get out of this nasty situation, create some sort of plan to save himself and his sister while still sparing Hawke long enough for him to learn of his past.

He was lying to himself.

 

 

 


	5. Visitation Rights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hawke disobeys, Fenris thinks he's gone insane. What else is new?

_'I'm a really shitty friend,'_ Lissa thought to herself as she tied the laces on her boots. She straightened her tunic in the mirror, tugging on the dark blue cotton. White embroidery decorated the scoop neckline and the hem, falling just over her upper thighs and the dark brown leather pants she wore. As an afterthought, she tied a white sash around her waist, completing the outfit. Access to nice clothing was one of Hawke's favorite parts of her new-found wealth. She always found a way to incorporate the red silk she wore as a testament to Fenris, this time looping it through her belt beneath the tunic. Even if no one else knew it was there, or why it was, the presence of it comforted her. When Fenris had been captured, she tore apart her room looking for a piece of fabric that matched the one she'd given to him three years ago. Varric had picked up on it first, a sad smile on his face. 

Hawke slipped out the door an hour past dusk, and Leandra knew exactly where her daughter was going. She couldn't stay away from Fenris. The elderly woman shook her head, turned back to her book, and tried to ignore the nervous, white-knuckled grasp she had on the pages. 

The walk to Fenris' new- old? manor was chilly, and Lissa walked quickly to try and stay warm. She regretted not wearing a cloak, but that would've been too much. Spring was fickle like that, the archer pondered; cold when she stood still, but hot as soon as she started to move. Stupid weather, it never did what she wanted it to. Hawke stuck her tongue out at the sky, then laughed at herself. She had a startling grasp on her own immaturity- the thing is, she just didn't care. Her mother always did say Hawke was quite self-aware, yet strikingly unmotivated to solve her own problems. Other people always came first, and there was no end to the problems of others, so Hawke never had to face her own. That train of thought ended when she arrived at a heavy oak door, the only barrier from herself and very bad decision. She tapped the contents of her basket, making sure the bread and cheese was still there, and with a shake of her head and a quick hand to smooth her hair, she knocked three times.

 

* * *

 

Fenris was nestled in a chair, snacking on dried fruits he'd had one of his guards purchase. He was beginning to understand how he could take advantage of Danarius' men, a fitting little revenge. They weren't particularly filling, but he felt the urge to eat _something_. Dried fruit didn't go well with wine, but he washed it down with the spirit anyways. His greatsword lay on his lap, polishing cloth resting on the arm of the chair. There was demon blood on the blade, which was always difficult to remove. He'd been buffing a shine into it for an hour now, the repetitive, mindless motion letting him calm his restless mind. The fire in the hearth was as much for light as it was for warmth, although he was grateful to have the heat; it was warmer in the Imperium, and he didn't like the chill that early spring brought in the evening. He'd removed the red silk from the hilt of the blade, wrapping it around his wrist for safe-keeping. It made him feel... softer. He frowned at the thought, pushing it away. He wasn't 'soft.'

At some point, Fenris must have shut his eyes, because he was waking up to the echoes of a scream and a knock on his door. With rather unhappy groan he rubbed his eyes, trying to get Hawke's image out of them, and set his blade aside. He swung the door open slowly, then squinted angrily at his visitor. Lissa. Sure his mind was playing tricks on him, Fenris firmly shut the door in her face. He rubbed his temples, beyond irritated with the flashbacks, and was about to go back to his chair when he heard a small "Fenris..?" muffled through the door. He kicked himself internally, realizing that Hawke actually  _was_ at the door. Reluctantly, the great oak door opened again, and he fixed her with a displeased stare.

"What?" He asked, short words mirroring his short attitude. Hawke seemed rather flustered for a moment, but quickly regained her composure. Her eyes glanced down to the basket we carried, and she began to ramble.

"Well, I was just going to bring you some food if you didn't have any, I know it's difficult to get to the markets around here and you did just get here so... I thought maybe you'd like dinner..?" Her voice trailed off when she looked up and saw the displeasure on his face, and Fenris became very self-conscious of his attitude. She was trying to help him. Maker, this woman wasn't making his job any easier. He begrudgingly invited her in, unreasonably happy to see the smile that popped onto her face. "So! This is the new place, huh? It has, um. Character? Shit, I don't know. It's really dirty, Fenris." She commented, gravitating towards the fire and away from the dank, musty surroundings.

He resisted the urge to chuckle, but replied "Yes, well, it adds to the haunted charm I'm trying to portray. People tend to steer away from spirits." Lissa laughed softly, conceding that he'd done a good job with what little time he'd had. He was intrigued by how comfortable Hawke was with speaking to him, and how easily he slipped into conversation with her. She stood awkwardly by one of the chairs, basket still in hand, and Fenris realized she was waiting for his permission. "Please, sit. Do you drink?" He asked, motioning to the wine bottle as she perched lightly in one of the chairs.

"Do I drink? Pfffft, that's like asking if I breathe. Let me tell you, my tab at the Hanged Man has got to be taller than Varric- another friend of mine, very funny dwarf, no beard. You've probably seen him if you've been to the tavern in Lowtown. Have you, actually? Been down there?" Hawke was bright-eyed and curious, drawing an answer from him.

Fenris sat down and passed her the wine bottle, shaking his head. "I've seen it, but I stand out a bit much to go in and expect my presence to stay hidden." A clever grin spread across Lissa's face as she took a drink from the bottle, the red wine staining her lips a dark shade.

"You're certainly memorable," she purred, passing him back the bottle, "And easy on the eyes," she murmured, hoping he would hear that part. Fenris' ears picked up on that, and he was glad the alcohol had him a tinge red already.

"Yes, well, my master used that to his advantage. I was a walking warning." Fenris explained as he examined the wine in his hands, wishing he could read what kind it was. He enjoyed it, and made a point to memorize the label's pattern. Lissa's face softened, and he almost mistook it for pity, if not for the way she said her next words.

"What was he like?" She was not coddling him, offering condolences as he expected her to. Whenever he had a rare free moment with other slaves, they'd looked at him with such sadness in their eyes, empty comfort falling from their tongues. 

"He's... his name is Danarius. I do not have the words to describe him. I imagine loathsome is the closest thing I can get to the words I want, but they do not exist in the common tongue. Ask me in Tevene." He growled, and Lissa took that as all the answer she needed.

"You're very brave, taking your life back like this. I'll do anything I can to help you keep this freedom, you know. You deserve it." She spoke with conviction, leaning forward in her seat. A heavy pause hung between them, cerulean eyes meeting an olive gaze, Hawke's promise heavy in the air.

"You know not what you promise." Fenris remarked, setting the wine on the floor. Hawke didn't know how to reply, so she grabbed the basket and started to unpack its contents after a moment of silence.

"I brought a loaf of bread and some cheese, if you'd like. A knife too, wouldn't be much good without that." 

Fenris was grateful; it was certainly better than dried fruit, and for once, he didn't particularly mind company, or the face of said company.

This was very,  _very_ bad.

 

* * *

 

Hakwe was watching Fenris closely. She'd spent most of the night trying to figure him out- why he was here, what he  _really_ wanted with her. And yet, despite her added agenda, she couldn't help herself from enjoying their time. It reminded her of their old nights, drinking and flirting. But that wasn't what this was, she reminded herself. This was a mission, a way for her to gauge the danger Fenris posed to herself and her friends. And her city.

She was worried when he slammed the door in her face, thinking that she'd already overstepped the tight boundaries Fenris had; He'd invited her before, but this time her arrival was unexpected. She almost went home when he did that, but Hawke was never known for giving up. She had an internal debate over the tone she wanted to start their night with. Humorous? Flirty? Serious? ' _Honestly Lissa, you sound like a wide-eyed juvenile,'_  her internal monologue criticized her as usual, and Hawke shook the intrusive thoughts from her head, deciding on a mix of all three. She began to wonder if Fenris even wanted her there, or was just allowing her to remain out of courtesy; perhaps he didn't even want to spare the effort of kicking her out. Those thoughts were dashed when he offered her wine and seemed to relax, as much as Fenris could. As he handed her the bottle her breath caught, the red sash around his wrist flashing in the firelight. _  
_

The flirting went over without a single reaction from Fenris, much to Lissa's chagrin. That is, until he made a comment after their first bottle of wine disappeared. Hawke had finished the last of it, and she offered to run home to grab another if he wanted a replacement. The elf had given her a puzzled look, then informed her that there was more in the cellar.

"Just look in the room with the broken door- and don't ask." Lissa shrugged, grabbing a candle to light her way. The cellar was ten times creepier than the upstairs, and Lissa grabbed a bottle of wine and ran up the stairs as quickly as she could. When she walked back into the room, Fenris looked her over with a lazy grin.

"That's a nice view, minus the cobwebs in your hair." When Lissa squeaked, he smiled slyly, and she rushed to set the wine and candle down to brush the webs out of her dark locks.

"You, you liar! There's nothing there!" She exclaimed, huffing as she dropped into her seat. Fenris was giving her a wide eyed stare as he shook his head, getting up and walking suspiciously close to Lissa. She blushed, about to ask what he was doing when he plucked something out of her hair. A fat white spider was wriggling in his fingers, and it was all Hawke could do to not gag. "That was not in my hair. Please tell me it wasn't in my hair. Maker, I'm never going down there again,  _you_ get the wine next time. That cellar is a fucking death trap." Fenris conceded, and Hawke noticed that he didn't object to 'next time.' The spider ended up in the fireplace, and Lissa shivered every few minutes, envisioning that thing in her hair. 

"Okay, now that you're done torturing me, do you have plans for the time you're spending in Kirkwall?" she asked in an attempt to get information, cocking her head to the side. Fenris was reluctant to answer, but when he did, Lissa couldn't tell if he was telling the truth- his tic went away when he was inebriated.

"I was planning on getting your help to lure Danarius. I distinctly remember hearing your name during many angry rants at dinner, so you're obviously the person to go to. I need to kill him. It's the only way I can live freely." His words were thick and his eyes dark and intense, affixed on the fire. 

 

* * *

 

Fenris, upon speaking those words, had no idea why he said them. Maybe killing Danarius would actually solve all of his problems. He'd never even considered the idea as a real possibility before now, but something about the way Hawke had promised him her help made him think that maybe miracles _could_ happen.

 

* * *

 

 

There was a long, quiet moment after Fenris stated his plans, and Hawke didn't know what to do. She drew her knees to her chest and tried not to cry- the alcohol was making her emotions far more free than she liked, and the veneer of sarcastic cheer she usually wore was wearing thin. This was like too many nights of her past, and the way he sat, leaned just into his knees, eyes clouded and sad, tugged her heart into places she'd tried to forget. Hawke stood abruptly, gathering her things and stretching. Fenris glanced over at her and saw a flash of red along her belt, and he glanced to his wrist. The fabric matched, but he convinced himself it was a coincidence.

"Leaving?" He inquired, not bothering to rise.

"Yes, it's getting fairly late, and my mother might think I'm either dead or some kind of harlot."  _'No offense to Isabela,'_ she added in her head, partially wishing she'd just thrown herself at Fenris for some instant gratification.

"Well, dead would be too convenient for the vagrants of this city, I imagine, and a harlot- Well, we won't delve into that. I appreciate the dinner, Hawke. I'll make sure to clean the spiders out of the cellar for you." He smirked at her, and she rolled her eyes. Damned elf still thought he was funny. He decided to see her out, grabbing the knife that she'd left on the floor. "Here, don't forget this," Fenris said, walking to the open door. There was a brief moment in his head where he imagined the knife sticking out of her neck, but his stomach revolted against the idea and he banished the thought. Fenris pressed the handle of the knife into her hands, a moment of contact spiking a flash of light up his markings. Hawke pretended not to notice, and Fenris tried to ignore it. He didn't understand the reaction he had to her. She bid him good night, and he shut the door once he had watched her turn back to wave. 

No more than ten minutes later, an agent of Danarius appeared at his door.

"You let her live?" he growled, suspicion heavy in his eyes. 

"Her companions know of her whereabouts, I would be hunted down in hours. I will find the proper opportunity, find your patience." The elf snapped, and the agent grabbed the front of Fenris' shirt.

"Shut your mouth,  _slave._ You will not speak to me with anything but respect and fear. I may not be Danarius, but I am better than you. Get the job done, or your sister will find herself in more trouble than you're worth." With that, the man stormed out, leaving Fenris devastated. He'd felt a semblance of what freedom might be when Hawke was with him- that flame had been all but snuffed out.

Lissa got back to the estate and felt both lighter and heavier than she had in a very long time. Odin had stayed up to make sure she returned home, and satisfied that his master was safe, the mabari wandered up to Lissa's room to rest. Hawke dropped the basket off in the kitchen, turning the knife over in her hands a few times. He'd touched her twice that night, more than she expected. He hadn't broken the personal space boundaries for a week when they first met. She dismissed the thought, her eyelids drooping. It was time to rest.

 

Fenris didn't dream that night, and Lissa dreamt only of wine and white spiders.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long one!


	6. Team Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wicked Grace night and a bar fight to remember

The Hanged Man was a disgusting place in the eyes of an outsider. The walls were sticky, the floor was sticky, and anything that wasn't a tabletop was bound to get someone sick. Even the air seemed thick with something sweetly foul, and it was an acquired taste. Not that anyone really enjoyed it; they'd simply learned to ignore it. More than one drunken dare had involved licking the underside of the bar, though no one ever actually followed through. Hawke was dared once, after losing a game of Diamondback- Anders had to implore her not to on the grounds that not even his healing magic could help her if she did.

The group had a tradition of gathering for Wicked Grace on Tuesdays, just after sun down. This week was no different, but Hawke had a very heavy topic for discussion that night. Aveline arrived last to the table, and groaned. That meant she would be buying the first round of drinks. It took Norah's help to get the tankards of swill to the raucous group, but they were more than willing to assist with distribution. Hawke nearly kept two, but Merrill had gotten accustomed to drinking, and the little elf threw herself across Hawke to reach her glass.

"Hawke, don't be mean. Let the girl drink." Isabela chastised, gently smacking Hawke's arm from her other side. Isabela had moved into Fenris' seat on Hawke's left, leaving an empty chair across from Lissa. She'd taken to using it as a foot rest, and they left it empty as a testament to Fenris. As Lissa settled down, she thought that the chair wouldn't be empty for much longer.

Varric was about to deal the cards when Hawke cleared her throat, hushing the side conversations at the table.

"I have some news for you all, and I'd like you to keep your comments to yourself until I'm done speaking, because I  _know_ there are going to be comments. Got it?" She asked, eyes sweeping over the group and demanding some sort of acknowledgment. "I have no idea how to break this smoothly or tastefully, so I'm just gonna say it. Fenris is back in Kirkwall, and he saved my life yesterday morning. He also has absolutely no clue who any of us are. It's my theory that Danarius wiped his memory and sent him back to kill me; we're all well aware of how... vindictive I was after his capture. But I went to his place last night," she shot a guilty look at Aveline and Varric, both of whom glared back, then continued, "and he didn't try to hurt me, not even a little bit. So, I vote that we re-adopt him into the group and keep an eye on him. Thoughts?" 

There was silence, then Isabela spoke. "So, the handsome elf is back, and he doesn't remember a thing? I think that's an excellent opportunity~ If he hasn't tried to kill anyone yet, that's enough for me!" She squeezed Hawke's hand under the table, knowing her friend needed reassurance, but also thinking of sleeping with Fenris at least once. Lissa appreciated the gesture, and Merrill closely followed, voicing her support despite Fenris' distaste for her.

Varric cautiously agreed, still a little miffed at Hawke for lying to him, but he brushed it off, saying "Ah, Bluebell, you don't really make good decisions anyways." Anders, however, was not willing to let the subject slide.

"You're all really just going to let Fenris back?" he asked, pushing his tankard aside. "You said it yourself, Hawke, he's probably here to kill you. And if he's here to do that, then he probably brought other agents of Danarius with him. Did you even think of the harm that would bring to the city? Have you asked the alienage if they're fine with a magister's best slavers prowling around in the dark? Have you thought this through beyond your own happiness at his return, despite the fact that you don't even  _know_ him anymore? Honestly, Lissa, we should just drive him out, or kill him if he refuses. If Danarius has the man under his thumb, he's a very deadly weapon." His voice was flat, but there were tinges of anger at the edges. Hawke was willing to ignore the first few remarks, but at the mention of her supposed personal reasons for letting Fenris back in, her fists clenched. One more snide comment about her love life and- Oh, she was mad.

Aveline could feel tension building, but she admitted that he brought up valid points. "Hawke, Anders may be partially correct." With Aveline's calm tone, Hawke's fists unclenched.  "Fenris and his possible contingent are a danger to others, and we have almost no way of regulating that. I don't think that we should kill him, definitely not, but you must consider the possibility that he really is here to do harm, and that you can't change his mind." Lissa felt deflated, but she knew this wouldn't be easy. Nothing was ever easy. She debated how to reply, hostility rising to her throat, but better sense putting it down.

"I see where you're coming from," she replied, carefully leveling her words, "but I'm not inviting him to stay without reason. He's had many opportunities to kill me already, and when I asked him what he wanted here, his answer seemed honestly genuine. He wants to get away from Danarius; I think his other goals, whatever they may be, are secondary. For now, I think the most reasonable option is to watch him carefully, and I'll devote more time to personal patrols around Lowtown and Darktown. Is that satisfying?" Aveline nodded in agreement, and Anders reluctantly withdrew his dissent. 

Varric diffused the tension by dealing out the cards for Wicked Grace, and after a few glasses of ale, the attitude had become jovial, and it remained that way. That is, until someone insulted Merrill. Now, Hawke liked to consider herself a reasonable woman when it came to picking fights. She never attacked someone to defend her own honor, but when it came to her friends- Well, just last month she'd nearly thrown a man through a window for calling Anders a filthy abomination.

The trouble started when she and Merrill got up to get their sixth round of drinks. Merrill had quit after three, so she was stable enough to carry the drinks without spilling, but she needed help. Hawke had folded early on that round, and she wasn't particularly invested in watching Isabela bleed Aveline dry. They were leaning against the bar and speaking of vallaslin, Hawke professing her admiration of how beautiful it was, when a rough hand found Merrill's shoulder. A tall, almost handsome character loomed behind the woman, and she turned with a yelp at the unexpected contact.

"'Ello, little elf, are you free for a dance? You've got a lovely face on ya." He asked, and Merrill looked over her shoulder to Hawke for her opinion. Lissa could hear the heavy influence of alcohol in his slurred words, but she didn't see any immediate danger- the stranger, though drunk, didn't seem to have malicious intent. She shrugged, and Merrill wandered to the area of the pub where people were dancing to a rather lively tavern song that used turtles as a metaphor for sex. 

Hawke took the drinks to the table in two trips, and the group seemed to have noticed Merrill's detour. "Look at that! Daisy is having fun!" Varric exclaimed, the card game momentarily forgotten. They watched her laugh and dance with the man, and Lissa smiled. She liked seeing her friends happy. At the end of the dance, however, things started to go wrong. She saw the smile fall from Merrill's face as some of the man's friends approached, and they shared what looked like a cruel laugh. Merrill was frowning now, and Lissa didn't want any magic coming out. Hawke was out of her seat and over there before Aveline could intervene, and the table could see where this was going. Lissa slid to Merrill's side, her attitude jovial.

"Hey boys, what's so funny?" She asked, her tone light. The man who took Merrill dancing gave Hawke a once-over, grinning, and replied

"Well, this lass had a lovely dance with me, and my boys wanted to see her dance more. She's a cute rabbit, this one." Merrill frowned at the slur, shrinking towards Hawke.

"Don't call me that," she protested, then turned to Hawke and added "Liss, this isn't fun anymore. I think I'd like to go back to cards." Lissa agreed and wrapped an arm around Merrill's shoulders, steering her away. Their way was blocked by two of the men, and Hawke's smile disappeared.

"Oh, now we've got a rabbit and a Ferelden bitch. Our lucky day! Come on, if you two are so close, why don't you put a show on together?" One of them jeered, and Lissa narrowed her eyes. Merrill tensed, gathering her nerve to protest. "Don't say those things to my friends. It isn't wise," the elf stated, crossing her arms and staring the man down, the air crackling slightly. This is what Hawke was trying to avoid. His smile twisted into a smirk, and he laughed.

"Oh, hush small thing. I bet she fucks like the dogs do, too. Boys, want to take turns with the dog and the knife-ear?"

Hawke sighed, easily ignoring the Ferelden comments, but when the men tried to separate her from Merrill, her patience snapped. She looked up innocently at the largest of the three, making herself appear as small as possible, and asked "Take turns doing what?" before slamming her fist into his jaw. 

Isabela was the first to join the fray, jumping in to help Merrill into Varric's arms before taking up a position at Hawke's back. "Good to get some of this stress out, huh?" Isabela asked, ducking a punch and kicking someone in the gut. More people had joined the fight purely _because_ it was a fight, and Lissa smiled.

"Oh, it's wonderful! Feels good to be punching something." The two women were trained duelists- no one that came against them seemed to stand much of a chance; that is, until a very large mountain of a man hit Hawke so hard that she knocked Isabela over. "Ahh, shit." Hawke mumbled, tasting blood in her mouth. _'That's gonna leave a mark,'_ she thought, feeling her split lip with her tongue. The chaos around them seemed to tune out, and Isabela debated grabbing the small dagger strapped to her thigh. Hakwe was on an adrenaline high though, and she stood right back up to face him. "Got a problem with me, sir?" she asked, wiping her hands on her trousers.

"Ferelden," he growled, and Lissa shook her head.

"Honestly, what is  _with_ you people and Ferelden? What have we done? Blame the fucking Blight!" She emphasized her final word with a firm kick to his stomach, and he barely moved.

"Ahhh, shit indeed." Isabela commented, and Aveline stood. It was time to be Guard-Captain.

 

* * *

 

Fenris had little to do that night, and remembered Hawke's mention of the Hanged Man from the night before. He thought he'd have a drink and perhaps catch sight of this Varric person, so he decided to investigate the pub. He had no idea of the chaos in store. His day had been spent worrying senselessly about the threats that Danarius' men had made, realizing that he'd likely have to follow through with Hawke's murder. He thought of it as murder now, not a job, and the guilt tore him apart. He kept thinking of her smile, of her flushed look when he hovered so close to her to get that spider out of her hair. Maker, she was something, and he'd never even seen her fight. It was those blue eyes, soft and kind and strong with conviction, so different than the ones that haunted him most nights, that really stuck with him. It was like she could see right through him, and he didn't know how to feel about that. 

A train of thought that led to his mind focusing on ways to trap his guards in a fight with Lissa was cut short when he arrived at the Hanged Man and heart a cacophony within. By all accounts, it sounded like a fight. Fenris frowned, stepping in the door cautiously. He didn't have his sword, but his markings glowed softly. A bar fight _had_ apparently broken out, and he was less surprised than he should've been to see Lissa in the middle of it, squaring up with a man at least twice her size. He saw a group of already down-trodden men leaning against the bar, and Fenris grinned- he knew she'd had her way with them. He watched as Aveline- ' _what was she doing here?'-_ rose from her seat to assist Hawke with the man, who looked more and more like a bear every minute. There was an under-dressed Rivaini woman stumbling back to a table where a few more people sat, one of them matching the description of Varric. Perhaps these were her friends? He wandered a bit closer as Aveline stepped between Hawke and the man, a stern look on her face. She tried to guide Hawke away, but the man blocked them with a wall of an arm. Fenris saw the Guard-Captain attempt to reason with the mountain, and she was promptly headbutted. The ginger staggered, falling back to Hawke, who caught her friend with a look of mild terror.

Lissa's eyes flashed around the room, imploring her friends for help, and he saw the panic in her eyes when she noticed him. With a nod of her head and a raised eyebrow she asked for his assistance, and Fenris obliged. He crossed the room quickly, faster than Hawke's companions as he was one of the only sober people present. They looked on in wonder as he seemed to appear from nowhere, tapping the man on the shoulder and throwing a fist into his face when he turned. Lissa took the opportunity to push Aveline into Anders' arms, leaving him and Varric with three dazed women now.

"Fenris! Fancy seeing you here!" She called as he ducked to the side, avoiding what was almost a wild charge.

"How many times do I have to save you for you to get the idea of not dying?" Fenris asked, rolling his eyes. He watched her shrug and take a swig from a nearby mug, shaking her head to clear it. She shook her hands out and put her fists up, moving to support her newest battle partner. "You should really sit down, you're bleeding," Fenris commented, noting her split lip and swaying stance. She scoffed, brushing him off.

"Please, this is fine. I've had worse." He didn't doubt that. When the man came around again, they were ready. It was simple, really, working with her. His punches hit harder than hers, but she was faster- she drew the target in, and he hit, using the man's momentum against him. Within minutes the man was on the floor groaning, his head stuck in between the legs of a chair.

Fenris didn't know how, but he ended up with three drinks in front of him and Hawke singing his praises to the group of people around the table.

"Varric, Merrill, Anders, Isabela, and you've already met Aveline," Lissa rattled off, and he tried to remember their names. Anders and Aveline seemed suspicious of him, and Merrill refused to look him in the eye. Isabla looked at him like a piece of meat, and Fenris didn't like it; it reminded him too much of the way Danarius sometimes stared. Only Varric seemed friendly, but the dwarf's eyes kept flitting between him and Hawke. The night slipped away into cards and talk, and somehow he and Lissa ended up stumbling back to Hightown together.

 

* * *

 

 

"Do you always drink this much in the evening, Hawke?" he asked, watching to make sure she didn't stumble up the stairs. She laughed, the sound clear and loud in the quiet darkness. He liked the sound of it, the musical quality sending a shiver up his spine. He'd like to hear it more.

"No, not that much. But I usually don't start bar fights. Okay, that's a lie, I start them more frequently than I should. It's just so easy to get started, you know? Then you don't have to *hic* think of anything." He nodded, agreeing with her. Alcohol was an excellent distraction. "What about you Fenris, do you make a habit of saving people?" The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and she saw his face turn somber for a moment in thought. Of course he didn't- he'd probably been ordered to kill for Danarius many times.

There was a long stretch of silence. "I'd like to," he finally replied, his voice rather earnest.

Hawke watched him with a mix of admiration and curiousity; she didn't know what to make of the new Fenris. He was so much like the person she knew at the end of her time with him. He was gentler, and she wanted to think that perhaps her influence on him had survived whatever mess Danarius had put him through. She hummed to fill the silence as they walked through the streets, watching the houses that lined them become more and more elaborate as they traveled. Fenris made it a point to remember the tune. He left her at her home, and she bid him a fond farewell and a thank you. He stood at her door for a moment after she shut it, wondering how he was going to tell her about Danarius' plan. He had to tell her. But if he did- what would happen to Varania? The conflict made his chest ache.

Fenris heard Hawke's tune as he dreamed, and this time it was the picture of her laughing, not crying in pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't entirely know what the days of the week are called in Thedas, but the wiki says that Tuesday and Friday are known days. So, plain old days it is~


	7. ('Cause Baby now we've got) Bad Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris learns about Merrill's skills, and Hawke is quick to her friends' defense.

In the week following Fenris' return, things seemed to fall into normalcy. There were a few missions within the city, but Lissa hadn't called on Fenris to work with them on anything serious yet. She was still wary of bringing him on a life-threatening job; she didn't trust him completely. She'd been visiting the Gallows frequently and running simple missions, gathering ingredients for Solivitus, so she hadn't brought Anders or Merrill with her; it was too much of a risk. However, when a letter from Hubert drew her attention to the Bone Pit, Hawke knew she had to bring her best and brightest along. 

Apparently, there had been raids on the caravans of supplies to the area, and Hubert had captured the man who'd been leaking the information. Hawke took Fenris, Merrill, and Isabela with her, the most common grouping from before Fenris' disappearance. When they arrived in the Hightown Markets, Hubert had a man chained and waiting at his side.

"Hawke! My partner, it is good to see you. This is the rat who has been losing all of our money." Hubert explained, gesturing to the man. Hawke rested a hand on her hip and looked him over, crinkling her nose.

"Well, I hope he has a good reason for it. Take him to my manor, we'll deal with this there; I have to pick up a few things." Hubert nodded, and he tugged on the prisoner, dragging him off. Fenris looked after them curiously, then turned to Hawke for an explanation. 

"I own a partial share in a mine. A cursed mine, apparently, as it's brought me nothing but trouble. It employs other Fereldens though, so I work to keep the conditions nice." The rogue elaborated, wandering over to a market stall that was selling enchanted amulets. She picked out a beautiful opal piece, the shape of Mythal's tree carved into it, that radiated some sort of cold glow. Fenris felt the tinge of blood magic, and he frowned. As he took a breath to speak, Merrill gasped.

"Oh Hawke, it's  _amazing._ That would make my magic so much stronger! How much is it?" She directed the last of it towards the shopkeep, and he decided now would be the time to extort money from these folks, even though he saw the weapons on their backs. (A bad decision, really.)

"Well," the man smiled, drawing Merrill in, "I bought this from a travelling Dalish mage who'd lost his clan to the Blight; he claimed that it was from a shrine deep within the Frostbacks. I can tell you're a very powerful elf yourself, and I think he'd want you to have it. 11 sovereigns, dearest, just for you." Hawke snorted, and Isabela shook her head.

"That's ridiculous!" Hawke exclaimed, ready to take Merrill somewhere else, but Fenris was focusing on the implication of blood magic.

"Hawke," he said quietly, getting her attention, "Is Merrill a blood mage?" Hawke raised an eyebrow at him, and Merrill nodded. "She's a  _blood_ mage. Hawke, I can't work with her. There is nothing that blood magic touches that is good. It ruins everything," his voice was quietly angry, his shoulders raising. "And you, you should be under constant surveillance. In a circle, in a prison, anywhere that isn't free to run around and kill people." His words to the smaller woman were harsh and pointed, and Hawke bristled, stepping between the two elves. Merrill stepped back towards Isabela, who had started to understand that this was not going to end well.

"Don't talk to her like that, Fenris. I trust Merrill with my life, she's never once used her magic for the wrong reasons." Hawke growled, eyes narrowed.

Fenris became almost openly hostile, fists clenched as he asked "Oh, she hasn't? Then why is she, obviously Dalish, not with her clan?" Merrill frowned, but didn't have the sense to keep quiet.

"They- they kicked me out. For using blood magic to fix something."

Fenris gestured as if to use her as an example, continuing his argument, "As I was saying, she's dangerous. I'm drawing the line at blood magic. I've seen too many magisters use it for harm. I've been the subject of it. She's a monster, Hawke." His voice hadn't raised, but Hawke's certainly had.

"Oh,  _she's_ a monster? Then what am I, I've killed ten times the people she has! Merrill is one of the most trustworthy people I know, and I won't stand for you insulting my friends, am I clear?" Hawke's voice was not so controlled.

"Crystal clear, Hawke. You're willing to bend your morals and overlook obvious issues when they're inconvenient to you. If she were an abomination, would you give her a hug and send her off to destroy half of Kirkwall? Can you not look past your own desires to see what kind of demon you shelter under your wing?" 

Hawke was incensed. She snapped at his words, stepping in close enough to feel Fenris' angry breaths on her skin, and grabbed the mantle of his armor in one fist.

"I will not stand by and let you disparage myself and my companions. I have no problem seeing people who cause issues in my life, and right now, I'm looking at a man who's about to become one. I understand your concern, but Maker, that girl has given you no reason to detest her like you do. Stand down and leave her be, or I'll make you." Her lip was curled and Fenris was suddenly very aware of how close she was. They were the same height, eye to eye and unable to break their stare. His rage mixed with a strange flutter in his stomach, and the words that were sitting on his tongue seemed to disappear- he had no way to respond. Instead, he inclined his head in acknowledgement, his hair brushing against her forehead. Hawke sucked in a breath, then let him go. 

Lissa regained her composure as they separated, and the small crowd that had stopped to watch the exchange dispersed with a single glare from Fenris. The elf noticed that his markings had been glowing, and he calmed them quickly. As the group left the markets, Hawke shot a dirty look at the shopkeeper, who cowered back into his stall. He quietly noted that these people were crazy. Silence hung in the air, stifling any hopes of conversation until Isabela reached into her brassier and pulled out the amulet and handed it to Merrill.

"You two are great at distractions, you know. I grabbed the amulet and three other rings while everyone was watching you fight! I should take you guys everywhere. Who wants enchanted things?" She exclaimed, dispelling most of the tension. Hawke was still upset with Fenris, and he tended to avoid looking at her, but at least they started speaking. Isabela distributed the rings to her companions, and she earned a half-hearted chastise from Hawke.

"Isabela, you know you shouldn't steal things like that- But these rings are pretty cool." Fenris turned his over in his hands a few times. It was a dark metal, simple in design and thick. When he slid it on his pinkie finger, his body felt invigorated.

"Hm. Not entirely useless," he muttered, and Hawke grinned slyly.

"No, it isn't. Magic is quite useful," she remarked, and Fenris made a disgusted noise. Merrill giggled, not missing the jab, and she earned a sharp look from Fenris. She ignored it.

 

* * *

 

Later, when Merrill and Hawke had a moment alone, the mage apologized profusely for making Fenris angry at Hawke. Lissa had scooped Merrill into a hug and insisted it wasn't her fault, and that Fenris had to learn not to be a bigoted arse. She made Merrill promise not to take anything mean he said to heart.

 

* * *

 

 

The man's name was Sabin, and he was from Ferelden. Fenris didn't like the way his eyes shifted from side to side, skittering away from eye contact and focusing on the floor. He was most definitely guilty. They'd arrived to Hawke's mansion to see Sabin tied up in a back room, Hubert smacking him across the face. Fenris flinched, his own cheek burning with phantom pains. He knew what that was like.

"Hubert!" Hawke's voice cut through the air, "Didn't anyone ever teach you that violence isn't always the answer?" She grinned at Isabela, and the woman laughed. Fenris felt the urge to smile, but he was still angry at Lissa and when she glanced at him to see his reaction, he refused to give her the satisfaction. He was satisfied, however, at the way she shook her head once they broke eye contact. 

"So, Sabin. You want to tell me why you're letting my people get killed?" Lissa asked, hand on her hip. Sabin narrowed his eyes, refusing to say a word, and Fenris watched as Hawke's shoulders fell. "Hubert, if I may have a moment alone?" She shooed her business partner out of the room, and he left reluctantly. "Okay, Sabin, talk to me. Please tell me why you're selling information. I honestly don't think people do bad things without reason; tell me what your motivations are, and I'll see if I can help." Hawke's voice had softened, and she was leaning down to look Sabin in the eye.

The man's resolve seemed to shatter, his head slumping to his chest and his voice wavering. "Serrah, I- I can't provide for my family. No one will hire my wife, and my daughters are- they're suffering. I've had to pay off templars, my youngest is showing signs of magic. When someone approached me about selling information, they promised that it would never get back to me. I'm sorry." 

Hawke sighed; she spent a moment deliberating, a thoughtful expression on her face. Fenris couldn't help but watch as her brow furrowed, tongue stuck in her cheek, eyes to the floor in thought. It was almost...  _cute._ He banished the thought, but not before he felt the tips of his ears warm.

"I see.  Well, that certainly is very bad. Will you tell me who you're selling to if I promise you that I can take care of your family?" She was always too empathetic, Fenris thought. When he described the man to Hawke, and later to Hubert and his 'friend' Lilley, the group learned that the Coterie was involved- and that there was going to be a raid that night. Hawke stormed out of the room in a flash, declaring that she'd save that caravan.

Fenris groaned. This woman was going to be the death of him.

 

 

 

 


	8. Throw your Hands in the Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like you just don't care. (Even if you care a lot.)

The mountain pass outside of Kirkwall was an infrequently used area, and the security was light. This made for easy pickings from bandits, but also an easy route for smugglers. Lilley was expertly deflecting questions from Hubert as the group trudged down the road and through the rocks to get to the pass.

"Lilley, what does the Coterie get from having its fingers in half of Kirkwall?" He inquired, and the bandit looked like she was going to strangle him as she replied

"We get what we get. Look, just because you hired me doesn't mean I'm obligated to tell you about the  _underground_ crime ring I'm a part of and our secrets. You're lucky I haven't mugged you by now." Isabela laughed, but Fenris and Lissa frowned.

Hawke nudged Hubert and gently commented "I believe she's serious, Hubert. I have no desire to be the sole owner of this mine, I'd steer away from Coterie questions, yeah?" Hubert sighed, nodding to acknowledge her advice. Lilley threw her hand out, stopping the group just before they crested the ridge they'd been climbing. "

Shit," she hissed, "We're too late. The raiders are still here, but your miners are dead." Hawke's heart dropped, and she quickly crept to the top of the ridge to observe. Seven good men lay dead on the ground, and five bandits were looting their bodies.

"Okay, that's gotta stop now," she growled, grabbing her bow and nocking an arrow. Lilley stepped back, pushing Hubert away from Hawke, and their companions readied themselves. "Alright, charge when the arrow flies," she ordered, and let the arrow go towards its target. The snap of the bowstring filled the air, and the bandits' attention snapped to the ridge. The first man had feathers sprout from his throat as the arrow made its mark, and Merrill took advantage of their confusion to set the area on fire, a small knife crossing her upper arm to draw power. Isabela had disappeared, true to her style, popping in and out of Hawke's attention as she slashed and stabbed. Fenris barely had time to swing his blade before the fight was over, and he quietly admired the efficiency of Hawke and her companions, despite his disapproval at their methods.

Lilley approached with Hubert after the blood bath, kicking over one of the bandits disdainfully.

"I know this man, he works for Brekker. We weren't contracted to attack any miners from the Bone Pit, which means he's working on his own. That rat was always to ambitious for his own good- I'm going to go to Darktown to investigate. I'll let you know when you need to step in. In the meantime, Hubert, you owe me five silvers." She cocked her hip out and rested her hand on it, her foot tapping softly. Hubert groaned, digging into his pockets to produce her payment. "Thank you, and goodbye." Lilley swiped the bag of coins from his hand and traipsed off, humming as she disappeared around the bend.

Lissa sighed, her attention turning to the miners who were killed. She knelt at one man's side, searching through his bag to find any identifying marks. "He had a family," she said, voice wavering as she opened a letter from his wife. "He was earning money to buy them passage back to Ferelden. So many good men, wasted. We have to find Brekker and make him pay." Hawke was almost growling, and Merrill put a hand on her friend's shoulder.

"It's okay, Hawke. We'll make sure their families are alright, won't we?" The little elf helped Hawke to her feet, Lissa nodding in agreement.

"Let's tell Aveline that there's a mess out here. I need a drink." Lissa stood, looking back in Kirkwall's direction, wondering if she was every going to stop seeing death everywhere she went.

 Isabela grinned, slapping Hawke's behind, and cheered. "Drinks! Oh, drinks are on these saps tonight."

The pirate had been rooting through the bandit's possessions, and she'd amassed a fair amount of money and trinkets. "Here, Fenris, I found this for you~" Isabela winked and tossed something at Fenris, who caught it and cautiously looked at her present. His face scrunched in disgust, and he dropped the offending object quickly. Lissa frowned, curious, then busted out laughing as she realized they were women's smallclothes. "Looks like this one here frequents the Blooming Rose. Not a fan of ladies, Fenris?" Isabela asked, a cat-like grin spreading across her face.

"I am not fond of dirty smallclothes thrown at me." He responded, grimacing as he stared at his hands.

"Oh, then maybe you and I won't get along as well as I thought. Panty tossing is my preferred method of courtship," she called back as she started off towards Kirkwall, and Merrill shot Fenris a pitying look as she walked by. "Oh Fenris, I don't think you'll have to worry about ladies throwing their panties at you. I know _I_ won't," the little elf commented, and Hawke snorted, then busted out laughing. Isabela was in hysterics within moments, and Fenris felt his face heating up.

"Merrill, Maker, did you really just say that? And mean it?" Hawke gasped, and Fenris glared at her, a disgusted noise leaving his lips.

"Well, yes," Merrill answered, tilting her head, "I don't really like broody people much." Fenris could have sliced through stone with the look he directed at Merrill, but the situation  _was_ rather entertaining.

Isabela finally calmed down enough to breathe and she hugged Merrill, dragging her away. "Kitten, you are the best. Let's go get drunk." They walked away, leaving Hawke and Fenris behind, and the tension from before the fight returned to the forefront of Fenris' mind. "We should return," he snapped, quickly walking back towards Kirkwall. 

 

* * *

 

 Fenris kept his eyes focused on the horizon, trying to ignore the soft steps of Lissa behind him. He didn't want to be upset with her any longer, but he was clinging to the anger at her tolerance of blood magic as an excuse to separate himself from her. If he could convince himself that she wasn't as good a person as she seemed, killing her would be easier; and yet, despite his disdain for her company, Fenris couldn't bring himself to see her as anything bad. He remembered how she'd bristled with rage at the death of the miners, how her thoughts immediately went to their families. He even approved of her treatment of Sabin, although he thought the man could've dealt with a little more punishment. She trudged behind him in silence, and he sighed, his shoulders falling in defeat. 

"Hawke, about earlier, I- I should not have judged Merrill so quickly," he offered a word of peace, the uncomfortable situation beginning to grate on his nerves enough to need resolution. He heard a snort, turning to see her rolling her eyes.

"You're right, you shouldn't have. I don't know why I expected you to behave otherwise. Your reasons may be valid, but even murder with an excellent motive is still murder. Don't do it again." Her tone was flat, but her pace picked up and she settled next to him- he figured that was a sign of forgiveness. While she approached, though, he was thankful she couldn't see his face. Murder was still murder, even to save his sister. The scale he'd made in his mind once again tipped ever so slightly towards the rogue at his side.

 

* * *

 

Hawke was quiet, her thoughts flitting from her anger at the miners' death to her frustration at Fenris' silence. When he apologized, she was shocked, and her own response was even more painful to speak. Murder was indeed murder, and though the anecdote was very pertinent to their situation, she still cringed. It was very hypocritical of her. They spent the rest of the walk listening to Isabela telling extravagant sea stories to Merrill, who was staring at the pirate with wide, sparkling eyes. Lissa felt viciously protective of the girl and the injustices she'd faced, which was why she still stung slightly at Fenris' quick anger over blood magic. She loathed the day he truly met Anders. 

About ten minutes of silence had passed when her wandering was mind snapped back to reality. An arrow streaked through the air and landed at her feet, drawing everyone's attention. Lissa examined it, puzzled, then rapidly scrambled away as she heard a soft hissing- an explosive. Fenris had already reacted, moving away, and she hit the ground hard when the arrow blew. Isabela squealed, ducking to cover, and Merrill's barrier quickly bathed them all in a shimmering teal light. The bandits had discovered their dead friends, and this time, there were more than five; at least three archers had settled on the rock face, and seven more were closing in on their position fast. Lissa focused on the archers above and across the ravine, not bothering to find cover- she had a barrier and three good fighters between her and the main mass of bandits. The archers were good, but she was better; her poison-coated arrows flew truly, and one of them writhed in agony as he crumbled down the rocks. Merrill shot a bolt of magic that arced between the close group of warriors, slowing them down just enough for Isabela to join the fray. Still, a few men got through, and Fenris shifted defensively, his markings humming with energy. The last two archers fell, and Lissa moved to back her companions up. 

"Brace yourself, Hawke. I can't take them all," Fenris growled, and Lissa nodded, nocking an arrow. She leveled her gaze and channeled her focus, a long draw making her shoulders protest.  _'I'll be sore in the morning,'_ she thought, grinning. Her shot whistled past Fenris, impaling one of the incoming enemies. Fenris focused on the two charging towards him, the distraction taken care of, and snarled as he moved through them.

Lissa shuddered- that always did freak her out, a little. She couldn't imagine what it felt like, "And I never want to..." she added, murmuring. The bandits were far more fazed than she, and as one's heart was tossed across the ground, the other found himself with a greatsword cleaving through his collarbone. Fenris flicked the blood from his blade as the man fell, and the four companions regrouped. 

"That was exciting! You'd think they'd learn not to attack us, eventually," Merrill mused, patching up some small scratches. Hawke nodded, pleased, but was quickly jarred from her contentment when Isabela grabbed her arm.

"Lissa, you're hurt. Why is it you never notice when you're shot?" Hawke raised an eyebrow, and Merrill gasped.

"There's an arrow in your shoulder!" The woman squeaked, her hand hovering just above the wound. Fenris raised an eyebrow, noting the injury- it wasn't too deep, mostly embedded in between plates of metal, but it would still hurt.

"Oh," Lissa huffed, confused as to why she wasn't feeling pain. Then Merrill's magic wore off, and it came crashing in all at once. She was sure they could hear her cursing back in Ferelden. Isabela insisted that they go see Anders, and she and Merrill supported her the entire way there. 

Dread filled Lissa's stomach as she felt Fenris' concerned gaze burn into the back of her neck- He'd meet Anders now, apparently. If she could throw her hands up in defeat, she would.

 


	9. The Wolf and the Songbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude-  
> By Varric Tethras

Clip a blackbird’s wings

Pluck a wolf’s eyes

perch the bird so

softly

upon the snout of the darkened gaze.

 

Whistle an aria of sorrow,

the ruffled feathers that glimmer in the night

from the light of cerulean stars,

listening,

waiting,

wondering

why her moonlit companion has gone,

and if his fur is beneath her stunted fate.

 

Keep a beast of preened magnificence

locked away in selfish silence,

his once proud voice

that echoed ‘cross the lunar mountains

choked tightly in bound throats.

 

Temp the whiplashed creature

with delicate prey,

So helplessly diminished, still

wondering if it is his companion

who sings there.

The binding hands are sinister,

they teach the wolf to eat melodies.

 

 

Even broken beaks can rip apart the bindings

and direct the howl of a raging lupine

to the monster that created

this twisted

broken

mess.


	10. Money, Money, Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Retail therapy fixes all wounds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry I've been gone so long??? School is finally over and I am totally hyped to write again. Yay! S/O to Surfer_Girl for making me want to keep writing <3

Darktown was dank and disgusting- Fenris was trudging along behind Hawke and company, his boots sticking to the stone beneath his feet. Something in his stomach churned against the smell of sewage and disease and the flies buzzing near his ears that he flicked away every few minutes.

"Who are we going to see down here? I doubt anything remotely helpful to healing can come from this place," he asked bitterly, eyes narrowing at shady characters that stared from the shadows. Hawke sighed, flinching at the movement of the arrow in her shoulder. Isabela had insisted they leave the arrow in to prevent excess bleeding, but Hawke just wanted the harsh metal out of her body.

"We're going to see Anders. Remember the blond man at the Hanged Man? He's a healer, he'll be able to fix this," she replied, leaning more on Merrill.

"I could try to help, but I'm not very good at healing." the elf added, a small frown on her face. 

"No Kitten, you're good at other things. Here we are!" Isabela announced, and she kicked on the rickety wooden door that guarded a hole in the wall of Darktown. Fenris frowned at the door- a small lantern flickered with veilfire above it, and the magic made his marking prickle. A young woman answered the knock with suspicious eyes, then let out a light gasp as she saw Hawke.

"Messere! Come in, what happened?" She asked, and Lissa winked at the woman.

"Oh Silla, I just got into a bit of a bind, that's all. I assure you, the other guys are in a  _much_ worse shape. Where's Anders?" Lissa asked, gently sitting on a cot. A cat chirruped from nearby, and she smiled as Merrill skittered off towards the sound. Anders emerged from a back room as Merrill swept back in, a small gray fluff in her arms. She and Isabela ran off to coo over the litter of kittens as the mage approached, leaving Fenris to stay with Lissa. 

"Lissa, you're hurt," Anders chided, pushing up the sleeves of his robe. He snatched his staff from a nearby wall and approached, prompting her to take off her armor.

"Yes, I'm an idiot, and I know this is the third time I've been here this month- People just really like shooting me," Hawke protested, fingers shakily undoing the clasps on her armor. She stripped down to her undershirt, simple white cotton, and Anders watched intently. Fenris observed the exchange through narrowed eyes, his gaze fixated on the mage. The elf found himself bristling with protective instinct when Anders touched Lissa, anger spiking through his heart when his long fingers held her back and grasped the arrow. Fenris realized with a start that it originated from jealousy- that didn't bode well. "Do it quickly, Anders, I don't want this to linger," Hawke hissed, and Fenris saw her grimace in pain when the arrow moved. Fenris knew he should be hoping she'd bleed out, it would certainly make him feel better than killing her himself, but he somehow wound up standing in front of Lissa and getting her attention.

"Ignore it, focus on me," he ordered, palms open and glowing as his markings flashed. Lissa's eyes locked onto his, surprise painted on her face, but it was quickly replaced by a look of sheer agony. She screeched a curse, nails digging into her pants as Anders jerked the arrow from her flesh, blood spurting from her shoulder and staining her shirt a deep red. Fenris moved to help, but Anders blocked him, his staff forming a wall. The scent of mint filled the air, overpowering the repulsive hot copper of blood as cool green tendrils flowed from the blond man's fingers to her shoulde. Fenris felt his heart unclench as relief relaxed Lissa's face.

"Lissa, you really need to be more careful. If you'd taken me with you, perhaps this could've been avoided. You need people who can properly watch your back," Anders commented, a not-so-subtle glance flitting towards Fenris.

"I get along just fine how I am, Anders. If I didn't need healing, I wouldn't visit you so much, yeah?" She tried to diffuse the situation, trying to ignore how wet and hot her back was becoming. The blood loss was starting to make her light-headed.

"All the same, I'd be more comfortable at your side. We can protect you better that way," the mage asserted, and Fenris' ears pricked forward.

"We?" he inquired, and Lissa's face fell. This was going to be bad.

Anders knew how to get on Fenris' nerves, and he'd hoped to alienate the elf enough to convince him that Hawke wasn't worth the trouble. "Yes, we. Justice and I are more than capable of watching over Lissa," he mused, and Fenris growled.

"Justice is the name of a demon." Lissa flinched at his tone, and she really didn't want to deal with two fights in one night.

"Justice is the name of the spirit that assists Anders in watching over the mages in Kirkwall. Fenris, Anders, for my sake, don't do this now," she pleaded, voice wavering, "Please." Her blue eyes were ringed with red from pain and pleading, enough to stop Anders. Fenris took a breath to protest, but something in her gaze was familiar. The bloodshot look, the pleading, the rawness- it was almost like his nightmares.

"Very well. But this isn't over," he threatened, and she sighed in relief. Her thankful gaze was almost worth it.

 

* * *

 

 

Lissa was glad to get out of Darktown. With her shoulder bound in bandages and her armor back on, albeit loosely, she felt much better. After slipping Anders a few sovereigns and thanking him for not antagonizing Fenris further, she herded her companions out of the makeshift clinic and back to Lowtown. She was aware of Fenris' growing tension, and she kicked herself for having to antagonize him further after the fight that morning. Merrill and Isabela had picked up on it despite not witnessing the near-argument, and it was making them uncomfortable.

"I'm going to go home and eat, I'm really hungry," Merril commented, "You're all welcome if you'd like." Isabela took the invitation as an escape route and ducked away with the elf to the Alienage, leaving Hawke and Fenris alone again.

"I know I should've told you about Anders when you expressed your concerns about Merrill, so I guess it's my turn to apologize," Hawke said reluctantly as they walked through the markets, sounds of swindling and auctions echoing across the towering stone walls.

"We're even. Say no more of it, I don't want to hear it," Fenris gruffly replied, and Hawke was silent. They passed a stall with rich fabrics and blankets, and she saw his eyes linger on the luxurious cloth.

"You don't have any blankets, do you? Furnishings?" She asked, changing the subject as she paused near the merchant. Fenris fixed her with a confused look, not sure how she knew his mansion was completely bare.

"I- no. I do not." Hawke's mind began to work, and she knew exactly what would make him dislike her less- shopping. It fixed  _everything._

"They we need to solve that problem. Don't pretend like you weren't eyeing those blankets," she grinned, and Fenris groaned.

"You are not buying anything for me," he protested, but she was already traipsing off to the stall.

"Take your pick, Fen," Lissa cheered, and Fenris was slammed with a sense of deja-vu. He stared at her blankly as different iterations of his nickname echoed in his brain, all in her voice- loving, pleading, fearful, laughing, lustful. He paused to gather his words, trying to remember her question.

"I- I profess that my time with Danarius has accustomed me to a certain desire for... higher quality," he admitted guiltily, and Hawke  grabbed at her coinpurse.

"My coffers are accommodating to that."

She watched him mull the decision over in his head, and she put on her sweetest face to coerce him into shopping.

"Fine," he sighed, and Lissa squeaked happily. They killed a great deal of time searching through fabrics and patterns, the dark blues and jewel tones appealing to Fenris. He had a fondness for silver trim, Lissa noticed, learning something new. She was displeased to find that the previous furnishings for his mansion had been looted in the dark hours of Fenris' absence, and she'd been meaning to replace them. Her investments had provided ample coin to provide her friends luxuries, and Fenris was no different- besides, she thought, the more friendly she was, the less likely Fenris was to actually kill her. At least, she hoped that was the case. 

 

* * *

 

 

Fenris ended up carrying baskets of bedding and blankets home, with an alley boy hauling a carpet behind them. Hawke had spent a hefty sum to furnish the mansion, and Fenris found himself embarrassed at the state of his temporary home- the elaborate cloth didn't match the cobwebs and dust that drooped dismally from the rusted chandeliers. Fenris quietly resolved to clean it for the sake of his pride. He wanted to make it look nice for Hawke as well, as he had no doubt she'd visit again.

As he bid her farewell, he set his head against the heavy oak door with a thud. Why did he care if the place looked livable? Why did he let her buy things for him? Why was she so damned  _nice_ to him? He palmed the small knife at his waist and wondered what her blood would look like on the cold silver- much like the blood on her shirt, he imagined. It was a beautiful red in his mind, like liquid velvet pooling on a silver pond. But whenever the thought of ending her life came into his head, extinguishing the spark that was beginning to warm his heart, something deep within him violently protested. The knife was sheathed, and with one hand Fenris ran his fingers through his hair. The pale strands were getting longer, he noticed, and was struck with the sudden realization that he'd been in Kirkwall for nearly a month and a half. Six weeks since Danarius sent him to kill Lissa, five since his arrival. The magister would be getting impatient, Fenris was sure of it. As if on cue, a knock at his door produced the lieutenant of the men watching him.

"You have a month before Danarius kills Varania. I suspect that you're growing too attached to your quarry- do not make us kill her for you. If I had my way, you'd both be in pieces, buried in some gutter," the looming Tevinter sneered, "But who am I to deprive the master of his pets? Maybe I'll send you both back. Get a promotion."

Fenris felt a fire burn at the words as he imagined every way he could kill the man where he stood. The elf began to glow, lyrium shimmering white-hot and angry. The slaver raised an eyebrow, assessing the threat, then took his leave, a glob of spit on the ground at Fenris' feet. Fenris slammed the door and stalked away, pacing on the intricate patterns of his new carpet.

He had to find a way to kill Danarius, Fenris decided. He must.

 


	11. Fading Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Demons reveal some things Fenris would've preferred to keep private.

A week passed- Hawke healed, Fenris was no longer upset- she visited his mansion twice and was happy to see it cleaner than before, swept and washed and entirely livable. She was impressed. He had stories about Danarius and Tevinter for their nights in, and they passed the down time with drunken lessons in Tevene- Lissa learned quickly, much to Fenris' pleasure. The elf found himself seeking her presence whenever possible, always trying to fill the silent evenings with her voice- it drowned out the guilty echoes in his mind. But when night fell, there was always a reminder of his deal- an agent of Danarius at the window, eyes sharp and dark against the warm fire that left its scent on Hawke when she left for the night. Fenris thought about Varania in his darkest moments, but her well being was almost always overshadowed by the bright, shining blue that lit up Lissa's eyes when she spoke a phrase correctly or cracked an awful joke. His heart was breaking in the warm, wet spring nights, and he was almost glad for it.

 

* * *

  

Feynriel was in trouble again, and Hawke was the one to fix it. "I'm always the one who fixes shit around here..." Lissa muttered as she trekked down to the alienage. This time, apparently she'd be visiting the Fade.

"Goodie!" She hissed, and Isabela frowned. "Hawke, you know, we could just not go. Like, I don't think I'm the only one who absolutely doesn't want to do this," she quipped, skipping up to Lissa's side. Fenris grunted in agreement, but Merrill countered, chiming in with her opinion.

"The Fade is only nice if you're not doing business there, but we do have to do this. He doesn't know what to do with his powers. Helping him is best for everyone." Aveline agreed, mentioning that it was safest for Kirkwall. Hawke sighed, knowing he was right. She'd agreed to do this, and she wanted to see Feynriel through to safety. She'd invested enough time and effort in him already, diffusing the elf-templar situation and rescuing him. Stupid teenagers.

Marethari was less than pleased when she saw Merrill arrive at Feynriel's home.

"I do not recommend taking Merrill into the Fade with you, she's too susceptible to the demons that reside there," the Keeper advised as they began preparations.

Hawke sighed, anticipating the reaction, and countered "Merrill has more experience than any of us with demons, I'm hoping she'll provide guidance." Marethari shook her head, disappointed, but didn't object further.

"You'll need to help the boy overcome the influence of the Demons in his sleep- if you can do so, he will wake free from their influence. Be warned, though, they will attempt to draw you away from your goal. If you die in this dream, you will simply wake up, but the pain will be real." The elf was serious, and they heeded her warning. Feynriel, deep in his coma, was almost at peace when Lissa looked him over- which was more than she could say for the last time they'd encountered the boy. A cauldron bubbled over the simple fireplace in the small home, filling the room with a low-hanging, dense green fog. Fenris was cautious of the situation, his ears flat against his head, a grimace at the sour, stale taste of Marethari's ritual, and he voiced his concerns to Lissa.

"I fail to see why  _I_ need to accompany you on this. Surely your pet abomination would be more use. Or Aveline, she's no doubt a stauncher ally. You Ferelden seem to be far more stubborn-"

"You're not changing my mind, Fenris," Hawke interrupted, voice flat and impatient, her own gaze trained on the fire. "Aveline is here to watch our backs in case something happens while we're... in the Fade." She shuddered at the thought, and Fenris mirrored the sentiment.

Hawke wasn't pleased when Marethari pulled her to the side with a request- "Feynriel has extremely powerful magic as a somniari. He can walk in his dreams and affect people- I request that if you cannot save him in his sleep, that you kill him. Make him tranquil, so that he does not become an abomination," The elven woman was insistent, but Lissa frowned.

"I can't- Tranquility is awful, Keeper. If it comes to that, I should grant him the peace of a true death," she replied, and Fenris' sensitive ears picked up on the conversation.  _"_

 _Ever a merciful soul,"_ He thought,  _"Naive."_ Isabela and Merrill approached Fenris while Hawke was busy, both looking at him with curiosity. "What?" he growled at the women, and the pirate grinned.

"So, Fenris," Isabela purred, "Do you think we'll encounter any Desire Demons in the Fade?" Fenris narrowed his eyes at Isabela, an eyebrow raised to a halfhearted glare.

"I'm not sure, wench. If I see any tossing smallclothes, I'll be sure to send them your way," he countered, a sneer on his lips. From across the room Aveline chuckled, having heard the story of Isabela's antics.

"I'd quite like to see that," Hawke added, walking over with the Keeper. "Here I thought that happened to you regularly, Lissa," the guard-captain commented, joining the group. Feynriel's mother, Arianni, finally emerged from the back of the house with mugs for the sleeping draught boiling over the fire. Marethari dipped a ladle into the clouded concoction and doled it into the four mugs- Hawke grimaced at the mixture, Fenris and Merrill mimicking her disgust.

"Eh, I've had worse," Isabela mused, and they shared a nervous glance before Marethari told them to drink.

 

Lissa barely had time to process the disgusting taste of her drink before she was waking in a twisting foyer, stone columns translucent and flickering. Her companions, disoriented, were also awakening, and none of them seemed particularly pleased.

"Ooh, my stomach. That's nasty stuff," Isabela groaned, and Merrill doubled over to throw up nearby. Hawke felt her own stomach roil, and bile coughed into her mouth. She swallowed painfully, eyeing Fenris to see his reaction. While the elf seemed relatively unfazed, his markings were glowing bright- she'd only seen them so charged during fights and... romantic encounters. She shook the distracting image out of her head.

"This is the stupidest thing I have ever participated in," he declared, and a moment after, a flying book smacked him in the back of the head. Fenris curled his lip as he rubbed his head, standing, and Hawke had to take a moment to keep herself from laughing hysterically. He glared at her as she choked down her amusement, but the look escaped their companion's notice. They gathered their thoughts and walked to the courtyard of the odd building, Hawke simultaneously aware of and ignoring the constantly changing walls that twisted into smoke and melting stone. She made a mental note to avoid the Fade at all costs in the future. A demon that resembled a Shade was pensively pacing in the pavilion, its glowing eye blinking periodically, and Lissa was tempted to nock an arrow and take it out.

Merrill stilled her hand, however, and said "We may be able to get information from it. demons and spirits aren't really different."

Fenris snorted, drawing an ireful glance from Merrill, and they approached. The demon seemed delighted to have company, its syrupy voice dripping with a tantalizing tone that Hawke couldn't peg.

"Ah, visitors, lovely~" the thing purred, glancing between them and identifying Lissa as the leader. "I am Torpor, and I have a proposition for you, Lissa Analise Hawke." Lissa started at her full name, intrigued by this offer.

"Speak, Torpor," she ordered, attempting to keep the control in her voice.

"This young mage is not worth the time you have invested. Would it not be easier to hand him over to me? I can take proper care of him, and you needn't invest all of this effort into helping someone who doesn't want to be saved. Is that not preferable? And if you would be so kind, I would surely reward you- knowledge, power, magic, whatever you desire," the Demon offered, and Hawke grinned. Power, the power to help Kirkwall, and the time she'd save by not dealing with this insolent teenager was tempting. She wrapped her fingers through the trailing red silk at her waist in contemplation, and Fenris noticed her sudden silence.

"Lissa," he warned, a hand on her arm jarring her from her thoughts. She glanced up to see her companions staring at her worriedly, and Isabela spoke up.

"You're not just going to... give the kid up, are you?" Hawke took a deep breath and shook her head, drawing an arrow and nocking her bow.

"You make a convincing argument, demon, but I'm afraid I'm gonna have to say no."

"Oh," it sighed, growing in size as its talons extended to brush the ground, "what a shame."

 

* * *

 

Lissa had never seen a desire demon before, and to be quite honest, she was glad of it. The creature that stood before them had lavender skin, bedecked in gold chains and flowing silk. Its horns were long and spiraled, arching gracefully back to the sky. It could have been beautiful, if it weren't enticing Isabela into attacking the group.

"Stand down, wench," Fenris growled to her right, the pebbled ground crunching beneath his feet as he shifted into a battle stance. Merrill was weaving a powerful barrier under her breath, the brisk magic sending goosebumps down Hawke's skin.

"What can I say?" the rogue mused as she drew her daggers and turned to her friends, "I like big boats, I cannot lie." She leapt at them with her daggers drawn, the fire enchantment hissing as it followed the path of the blades.

"Isabela!" Hawke shouted, spinning away as she avoided a dangerous blow, "Stop this! It's just the demon tempting you!" The pirate danced into a defensive stance as a fireball flew over her head, and she grinned.

"It has the power to get me out of this place and away from the Qunari. I'm not going to give that up." Wish a flourish, Isabela tossed a few smoke bombs and disappeared. Lissa was worried, constantly cocking her head from side to side to listen for Isabela- instead, she saw the glowing of Fenris' markings and made her way to him.

"We need to find Merrill," she stated, and Fenris grunted in agreement. They stayed back to back as they moved towards the low hum of Merrill's magic, and as the smoke cleared around the elf, Lissa was shocked to see her pinning the demon against a wall with a stone fist.

"You will not hurt my friends!" She hissed, and the fist crushed the demon's head.

"My, Kitten," a voice sounded from nearby, "That was a turn on." Isabela darted at Merrill with her blades raised, but the mage whipped around her, blood suspended in the air around her. The stone fist followed, and she narrowed her eyes at Isabela.

"You're not allowed to call me that if you're going to act like this, Iz." Merril frowned, then used the stone to knock Isabela across the room. She landed with a heavy thud, and something snapped. Hawke gasped as she slid the ground, running over to see if she was alright.

"Bela?! Isabela!" Lissa knelt at her side and checked for a pulse, but there was no movement. "Oh, Bela. She's dead, how can she- how could she?" Lissa blinked in disbelief, and Merrill hiccuped with a small cry.

"She wouldn't listen..."

 "She'll be awake now," Fenris commented as she shook her head, and he sighed. "This is not going well. Is it truly worth it?"

Hawke's shoulders slumped, but she nodded. "It has to be."

 

* * *

 

"Shit. Shit, shit shit!" Lissa hissed as she rolled away from Merrill's staff-blade, the metal slicing through the air just above her head. "Merrill, honey, do you not remember what just happened to Isabela?" She attempted to reason with her friend, but Merrill snapped in frustration.

"Yes, but her reasons were shallow! If you'd just let me make this deal, I can smooth things over with my clan and we can move on!" The elf sent a shockwave from the crystal focii, and it knocked Lissa back. She fired an explosive arrow in response, staggering Merrill for a moment.

"This is a waste of your talent, Merrill. You'll be an abomination," Lissa countered, and Merrill sighed.

"You just don't get it, Hawke. It's not going to take me over, I know what I'm doing. You always treat me like a child, but I'm more powerful than all of you." Merrill grabbed her knife and drew it along her left arm, a long, deep slice that made Lissa cringe. A dark shape formed from the blood that flowed, a vortex slowly forming around Merrill's staff. Hawke felt something in her veins being to stir, and her heart missed a beat. It was blood magic, her _own blood_ moving inside her body.

"Merrill?" She scrambled backwards, fighting her limbs as they pulled against her. "Fenris!" She shouted, drawing his attention away from the Pride Demon. He saw the terror on her face and immediately bolted away from the demon, barely avoiding an arcing lighting bolt. He recognized that look, the look of helplessness and fear- he'd made a vow to never see that on her face again, and it made his entire body protest. With a growl of rage, he caught Merrill just as she was turning to face him, and her magic couldn't stop the interference from his markings. With an almost elegant sweep of his blade, Merrill was cut down, and Lissa balked. She clasped her hand over her mouth as the blood fell from the air and pooled around the elf's tiny, crumpled body, and a small sob escaped her throat.

"Oh, Merrill, darling. I'm sorry," she murmured, and Fenris watched them carefully, the desire to comfort Lissa strong enough to surprise him.

The Pride demon had stepped back from the fight, and he could tell the monster was planning something.

"Why aren't you attacking?" Fenris asked as he nudged Lissa, making her stand and eye the beast.

"Well, I have lost my bargaining chip, but I think this situation could still be salvageable. Fenris, I have a question for you," it rumbled, the voice seeming to echo from around the room. Its beady black eyes fixated on Fenris, and Lissa swallowed. She couldn't kill Fenris on her own. The air tasted like ozone, the crackling scent making Lissa's skin crawl.

"You have nothing I want, demon," Fenris snapped, and it laughed. The sound was sinister, and Fenris took a step back, closer to Lissa now.

"But others do. Like Danarius, he has your sister. I can free her, you know. I can give you the power to take his head and mount it like a trophy. You could end this charade." The creature was almost purring now, the spines on its back flickering with static as it shifted its stance.

"Sister...?" Lissa questioned, her head cocking to the side as she looked at Fenris suspiciously. "Fenris, what is he talking about?" The elf paused, eyeing Lissa carefully. He could make a deal and be done with all of this- the demon would grant him the strength to face his master, he could win his sister's freedom, and Lissa... He watched her expression change from questioning to concern, then to a mix between anger and sadness. His heart dropped into his stomach; his lie was unraveling before him, the fraying ends starting to loosen as Lissa processed the information she'd learned. "You've been lying to me," she frowned, bright eyes narrowing. "

Lissa, I can explain-"

"No," she cut in, nocking an arrow and glaring at the demon, "You can kill this fucker. And if you don't..." Her bow swung to face him as she stepped back, the razor-sharp arrowhead trained steadily between his eyes, "I'm going to kill you." She was angry, her voice cold and sharp, red rings around her eyes as she stared him down, and Fenris knew there would be no point in dealing with the demon. She was serious, he knew that, and he'd sooner risk the wrath of a hundred demons before he laid a hand on her.

 

 

 


	12. Burn It Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheeeee, drama

"Lissa-" Fenris began, but she wasn't hearing a word of it.

"You lied to me, Fenris! Why not just tell me the truth? I don't even know what to think of you, much less why you're even  _in_ Kirkwall!" Hawke threw her hands up in exasperation, her voice octaves higher than normal. She was pacing back and forth in the stone pavilion, their dealings with Feynriel complete. The mage had decided to go to Tevinter to learn to control his powers, leaving Hawke and Fenris behind in the Fade. Fenris had planted himself firmly on a stair, watching her carefully.

"I told you once, and I meant it. I told you the truth- I escaped Danarius and I want to stay safe." He knew the excuse was weak, but perhaps if he stood his ground...

"Bullshit. Would you just tell me the truth!?" She'd stopped her pacing and was glaring at him, her heel bouncing nervously. Fenris sighed, his shoulders slumping; he'd have to come up with a lie, and a good one, or there'd be hell to pay.

"Fine. Fine, you want the truth? You meet me in my mansion after we get out of this place. I'm not speaking another word here." He wanted to bide time, give himself time to breathe. Maybe she'd let him-

"Absolutely not," Lissa demanded, interrupting his train of thought. Fenris flinched at the force in her words, but she didn't stop her rant. "We're not leaving this damn place until I know everything." He weighed the consequences- there were no agents of Danarius in the Fade, their companions were all... awake, and Hawke really couldn't kill him here. On the other hand, there could be demons listening, Danarius could be tracking him in the Fade, and any number of terrible things associated with the Fade could occur. That and Lissa could technically shoot him when they woke up. He paused his thoughts to look at Lissa again, this time devoting his attention to her. She was standing irritably, one hip cocked to the side, arms crossed. she was tapping the claws of her gauntlets on her armor, the small clinking sound rhythmic and angry in its own right, and her eyes were boring through him. Even with her hair plastered to her head with sweat and her face red with anger she was pretty, and he felt his heart tug on him to tell the truth, despite his better judgement.

"Alright- just- just sit down. I'd have rather done this with some wine in us, but that's not an option, apparently," he stopped as Lissa settled on one of the stairs near him, leaving a wide gap between them. He noticed she took a higher stair; she was picking a position she could attack from, and that made him a little nervous. With a heavy sigh, he settled back and thought about where to start. He figured it'd be best to go from the second time he lost his memory. Fenris absently pulled the red silk tie from his arm and began fiddling with it, then began.

"I have always served Danarius, for as long as I can remember. You know I've lost some of my memory, I've told you as much. But, about four months ago, I felt something else. I awoke a few years older, and everything had changed. There were new faces in the manor, it was a different season. I'd gone to bed wrapped in blankets as it if it were winter, but the leaves were red and gold when the day broke. My sword had even been swapped out for this," he motioned to the blade on his back, then continued. "The other slaves- they told me I'd been gone for three years. I know  _nothing_ about them. They told me I escaped, that Danarius had been in a rage the entire time I was gone. Then the messages started, from- well. From you. I don't know what you're trying to get back from him, but your methods were effective. Danarius sent me here to kill you, in exchange for my sister's freedom. I didn't even know I had a sister until he told me before I left for Kirkwall. But when I arrived here, I recognized some things. Hightown, alleyways, certain smells." Lissa was listening intently, but her face wasn't showing the curiosity it should have. Fenris started to wonder how much she had already suspected. She took advantage of his pause, interjecting something small.

"It wasn't _what_ I was trying to get back. It was _whom_."

Fenris choked on his breath, the pieces in his mind fitting together. The flashbacks, the fighting, the overwhelming amount of emotion. Every comfortable night in the manor, the little details about Kirkwall that seemed to fill in as he went; he didn't just know her from his dreams, Lissa was his past. 

* * *

 

 

Lissa didn't know why she said that. Her intention was to play stupid, to let him tell her everything and make her decisions from there. But as she watched the pain on his face, realized that he really was telling her the truth, something in her changed. She wanted to tell him everything, fill in the bits and pieces that she knew he desired. He just seemed so devastated at his memory loss, at having to deal with an entire part of his life gone, that she couldn't let it continue. She leaned forward and carefully watched his expression change- confusion, blankness, realization- she expected something happy. Instead, his ears flattened and his eyes narrowed.

"You knew. You knew me the entire time. And you had the  _audacity_ to hide it from me," Fenris hissed, beginning to rise. Hawke mirrored him, his hostile tone sending shards of ice through her chest. "How could you, you who claims to care so much, think it was wise not to tell me? I have been here for two months!" He rarely raised his voice, but now the low rumble of his tone was becoming forceful. Lissa straightened her shoulders and stood her ground, offended at his anger.

"I don't know Fenris, probably for similar reasons that you've lied to me for the past two months. It took a damned demon to make you tell me the truth!" He stepped up to her position, his fists balled up in anger.

" _I_ kept my mouth shut because someone else's life was at risk," he growled, waiting for her explanation. 

"I kept my mouth shut because  _my_ life was at risk. You wouldn't have believed a word I said if I'd told you all about your past in Kirkwall the first time we met. What was I supposed to say? 'Hi, I'm Lissa, you used to be one of my best friends and lived here for two years! Here's your old house, stab me in the back whenever you'd like!'" She scoffed, her eyebrows raised. Fenris snorted, turning to look at the pavilion.

"You know there are better ways to go about it. And if you knew your life was at risk, why did you bother coming to see me? Talking to me? An intelligent person would have killed me on the spot. And here I am,"  Fenris paused, fixating her in a glare, "Stupid enough to think your presence in my dreams was something I could ignore." His words were cold, but his voice was starting to falter. She thought she heard tears, but his cheeks were dry.

Lissa felt the stress she'd been holding back compound with all of the other feelings she had for him- right now, they were a mess of anxiety, fear, passion and an intense desire to make things right. There was a moment in her head where she saw two paths; the calm, level-headed one where she diffused the situation and they went back to the way things were between them, as much as they could, and they'd find some way to keep the peace. Or she could appeal to the Fenris she knew before he was captured. The one that loved her, the Fenris who made decisions based on his gut feeling, even if they were ridiculous. The one that maybe still _did_ love her, if she was reading him right.

"You really want to know why?" Lissa asked, grabbing his arm and making him look at her.

"Yes," he pleaded, and the anger was gone from his voice.

"You really have no idea?" She asked, searching his eyes. He knew, he had to know.

Fenris paused, and he wondered- love or insanity, but she'd be offended by either choice. He didn't know it was both. "No. I don't." He hated himself for saying the words, for denying himself the raging urge to pull her close and kiss her.

Lissa felt herself deflate, her energy slipping away like sand through her fingers.

"Then we don't have anything left to discuss," she murmured, releasing his arm and turning away. It was time to wake up.


	13. Sucker Punch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let Varric tell it like it is.

It was late spring, and a heavy spell of rain had fallen over Kirkwall. The waters were rough and it was harder for ships to cross the Waking Sea, driving up the price of goods and services. Of course, this lack of money meant a significant shortage of work for Lissa and her crew, who had come to be known as rather good-hearted mercenaries. Lissa found herself perched on the balcony outside of her room, quietly watching the showers as they doused her garden. She was hanging her legs over the stone railing where she sat, contemplating how it would feel if she just... slid off, onto the graying stones that lined the small courtyard. How it would look to see little droplets of blood spreading through the water, their tendrils minuscule and dissipating under the ever present splashing, how it would feel to lie on the hard earth and let the rain wash over her. Already she was soaked to the bone, but the rain was warm and comforting, even if the steadily darkening clouds killed her mood. It had been a few days since she and Fenris had told each other the truth. 

_"Truth."_

Hawke spat the word, mulling it over in her head. She didn't tell him everything. She'd hoped, in the deepest cracks of her heart, the ones she hadn't sealed up, that maybe he'd remember his love for her. The love that made him abandon three years of freedom to save her life. The words were on her lips, _'Because, I_ _love you.'_ She mouthed them, wondering what would have happened if she had. Maybe she wouldn't feel like there was an empty hollow in her chest, and maybe she wouldn't be sitting in the rain trying to fill it with anything and everything besides him.

"Lissa?" A rather quiet voice drew her attention, and Lissa turned to see Merrill awkwardly shifting from foot to foot in the door to the balcony. She seemed a little worried, so Lissa invited her out. The mage walked softly out to Lissa's perch, her bare feet splashing in the puddles, and she pushed herself onto the stone railing where Hawke sat. "It's kind of damp out here, Liss. You're going to catch a cold," Merrill murmured, staring out at the garden absently.

"I'm alright, Merrill. What brings you to my humble abode?" Hawke asked, scooting closer to her friend and following her gaze. She was watching a squirrel dig in the flower beds, its motions bouncy and timid.

"Well, I brought you some tea that usually helps me feel better. You've been very upset since we left the Fade. I know you're trying to hide it, but I can tell. Was it me? I know I did some awful things in there, and Isabela told me she already apologized to you, and I didn't want you to be angry with me." Merrill seemed genuinely remorseful, and Lissa knew she was being honest.

"Merrill, I know it's hard to handle demons in the Fade. Hell, they were starting to get to Fenris and me at the end of it all. Thank you for coming to apologize, it means a lot to me. I'm upset because of Fen, mostly." Speaking to someone about her feelings made it infinitely better, and there were few people she trusted more than Merrill. (Varric, of course, had already heard everything in excruciating detail, but she was drunk for most of it so it didn't really count.) The mage cocked her head to the side, one eyebrow arching in a question.

"Fenris? What happened? I noticed you two weren't really... speaking. Or making eye contact. Or anything vaguely like that." 

Lissa inclined her head, conceding that she was right. "Well, he told me the truth. I told him most of the truth. There was some yelling and some anger and I might have been crying at one point. I think he might hate me a little, to be quite honest." Lissa sniffed, rubbing the tears from her eyes as they started to flow freely. She didn't want to start crying, but the knot had formed in her throat as soon as the words left her mouth. Merrill cooed softly, hopping back down to the balcony and tugging Hawke with her.

"Come on, let's get you dried off. I'll have it done with magic in a blink!" Hawke followed reluctantly, one of her hands in Merrill's as she was dragged into the manor. She had such long fingers, thin and delicate- Lissa had a hard time grasping how she swung her staff with such power. "Hold still," Merrill ordered, and with a flourish, Hawke found herself warm and dry, the lingering smell of dandelions in the air.

"Thank you, Merrill. You always know how to make me feel better," Lissa said sweetly, pulling her friend into a hug. They settled into two of the massive armchairs that Lissa kept by her fireplace and began to chat, Merrill speaking of her progress on improving the alienage and making the elves there more of a voice in Kirkwall. Lissa was proud of her, but something concerned her- if Merrill was identified as a community leader, she might be singled out by more vengeful humans who weren't so fond of elves. Their conversation lasted well into the evening until Bodahn knocked on her door with a message. 

"Messere, Gamlen is here. He's calling for your mother. Have you seen her return today?" The dwarf wasn't particularly concerned, but Hawke frowned. She hadn't really checked to see if her mother was in, but it worried her that Bodahn didn't know.

"I- no, I haven't seen her. I know she left early this morning for the markets, but I assumed she'd be home by now. I haven't been out of my chambers in awhile." 

Merrill frowned, adding that it was Sandal who let her into the manor. They walked down to the foyer in a group, and it was only then that Lissa noticed a vibrant bouquet of white calla lilies sitting on one of the side tables in the hall. Lissa thought nothing of it for a moment, but there was a spark in her mind that said they were important. White lilies... why did they seem familiar?

"Bodahn, who sent the lilies?" Lissa choked out, a suspicion forming in her head that made her stomach drop to the floor.

"Oh, I thought it was a suitor of your mother's. She has a great deal of those, you know," he explained, and Lissa swallowed. White calla lilies were the calling card of the murderer that DuPuis was supposedly tracking down.

Gamlen pushed his way into the conversation, an edge of panic in his voice. "Why do you care about the lilies? Lissa, what's going on? I didn't see Leandra on my way up here and I walked halfway around this damned city to avoid the haggards who hang about the alleys. She was supposed to meet me at my house."

Lissa swallowed, pulling one of the flowers from its vase. "She might be in danger. We have to leave, Merrill. _Now._ Gamlen, go look for her in Lowtown and stop by the Hanged Man, grab Varric. It's an emergency. I'm going to get my armor on and find Fenris." Hawke ran up the stairs two at a time, and they were out the door in minutes. She all but ran down the street to Fenris' mansion, desperation overriding her emotional issues. 

Lissa slammed her fist against the heavy oak door and shouted, her voice sharp with panic. "Fenris! Fenris, open the door!"

 

* * *

 

Fenris paced in front of the fire, the red silk in his fingers twisting and untwisting, balled into his fists, wrapped around his fingers. He liked the sensation of the cloth, a stimulus to keep his hands occupied while his mind raced. He had to find out more of his past- Lissa had only told him bits and pieces the night they returned from Feynriel's. He escaped Danarius, he'd lived in the mansion before, they were very close friends- something about the Deep Roads, but a lot of that was marred by crying. Unfortunately, she'd neglected to mention how he ended up back in Danarius' clutches. "Granted," Fenris murmured to himself, "throwing a wine bottle against the wall and refusing to meet her eyes likely made the situation worse." He kicked himself internally for being so angered by it all. He was supposed to be level-headed. Calm, composed, and 'broody,' to use Varric's words, not a child throwing a tantrum. All the same, Lissa's uncanny ability to draw out the deepest of his emotions combined with the revelation that he could actually discover some of his past was enough to push him over the edge. 

He stopped mid-step as someone knocked on the door. Fenris frowned; it was raining, and no one sane should have been out. That left Hawke, her companions, or Danarius' men. He did a silent count of how many days were left until their deadline- 5. He had time. He opened the door slowly after another knock and was shocked to see Varric standing on his step, pushed close to the door to stay under the overhang of the small porch, Bianca on his back. 

"Dwarf, why are you here?" Fenris asked, suspicion heavy in his voice. Varric rolled his eyes, pushing his way past the elf and into the manor, not bothering to explain himself until he'd settled comfortably in front of the fire, Bianca leaning on his chair.

"I left the Hanged Man with the intention of kicking your ass, but my judgement got the better of me, so now I'm just here to do what I do best. Tell a story. Do you have anything to drink that's warm?" Varric was waiting for Fenris to move from the entryway, but Fenris was still staring. He blinked, processing what had just occurred, then silently headed to the kitchen for a kettle and some tea leaves. They didn't speak until the kettle had boiled and the tea was served, Varric letting the leaves over-steep. He preferred the bitterness.

"What story did you have in mind, Varric?" Fenris asked, suspecting he was here to speak of his past. "Well," the archer paused, gathering his thoughts, "I  _was_ going to tell you all about your time in Kirkwall, but I'm going to preface it with something small. No questions until the end, alright?" Fenris nodded, leaning into his chair and crossing his legs. This was going to be interesting.

"Alright," Varric began, clearing his throat, "I once met a woman at the Hanged Man who told me her whole life story when she heard who I was. 'You must write a book about me,' she insisted, and she was buying me drinks, so I listened. There's only one part about her that's really relevant here, so I'm going to skip to that part. She had an excellent romance, and I must say that was the most interesting part of the whole thing. Apparently he'd been on the run from an Orlesian noble who he owed a  _lot_ of money, something she knew of, but never really expected to encounter, since the man who held the debt was so far away. At least, not until the Orlesian was holding her at knife-point in some cave in the mountains and threatening to kill her. So instead of letting that happen, apparently the guy offered to work off his debts in exchange for her life. Seemed pretty noble to me, but she was  _pissed_ about it. Sobbed for at least ten minutes about how her heart was broken, how she'd never see her lover again, how she'd rather have died than see him leave to Orlais for the rest of his life. So she took to writing nasty letters to him and sending them under different names, every single day. Eventually, she set up an entire fabricated guild of angry Free Marchers that hated Orlais, even hiring people to harass him in Orlais." 

Fenris snorted- "She sounds like she has too much money and time on her hands."

Varric frowned, waving a hand to hush Fenris. "I said no talking until I was done. Now, this is the good part. The man from Orlais was in need of an assassin, and the man who owed a debt happened to be a bard. This job valuable to the Orlesian noble that he offered to wipe the man's debt clean. He'd been being bothered constantly by the guild, and ordered his new bard to find the leader of the guild and kill them, hopefully allowing him to live in relative peace. So, given the opportunity to return to Kirkwall, he jumped on the opportunity. Blah blah blah, the guy figured out that the guild was fake, reunited with his lover, and they lived happily every after." Varric picked up his tea and sipped it, carefully watching Fenris' reaction.

"And why was that relevant?" Fenris asked, raising an eyebrow as he attempted to puzzling things together.

"Because," Varric explained, "If you replace the Orlesian guy with Danarius and throw in some fucked up memory-altering blood magic, you've got yourself a really nice summary of what happened to you and Bluebell. Sans happy ending, of course." 

"What." 

That was the punch in the gut, delivered simply, and it didn't fail to entertain Varric. The dwarf sat back and watched the gears turn in Fenris' mind, watched the teacup fall from his hands and spill onto the carpet, ears twitching, olive eyes wider than the moon. To Fenris, things started to make sense. 'Give him back,' the message that all of Hawke's messengers to Tevinter bore. It wasn't just that he was one of her close friends. That silk sash she wrapped around her waist, how it matched the one on his wrist, how she handled the trailing ends of it with a sad smile. Why she was so utterly devastated in the Fade when he hadn't spoken what was on his mind. "You- you mean to tell me that we were- are you lying to me? Is this a tale of yours too?" Fenris growled, on the edge of his seat now. Varric restrained the urge to grin and shook his head, replying "No, no it's not. You wanted to know the whole truth, now you have it. Everything else is just about stabbing, slashing, and a trip to the Deep Roads, but Bluebell already told you all of that. Feel free to go sweep her off her feet whenever you'd like, she lives just down the street." Fenris shook his head, leaning his elbows onto his knees with his face in his hands. He'd been right; love and insanity  _were_ her motivators. And looking back on it, he realized that was what had kept her safe from his blade. He loved her, damn it all, and he'd loved her since- since before he could remember. That thought shook him, but he didn't have time to process the weight of the situation before they were interrupted.

A pounding at the door made them both snap to attention, and Lissa's ragged shouting brought a look of fear to Varric's face. "Or, she's already here. I swear I had nothing to do with this."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had no idea how to get the message across to Fenris, so at some point after I get better at writing, I may come back and redo this chapter. When i do, I'm sure it will be an emotional roller coaster. Until then, this is... this.


	14. Mother Dearest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best way to stop hurting about one thing is to start hurting _more_ about something else!

"Varric? Why are you...? Oh, forget it. Mother is missing!" Lissa explained breathlessly, Merrill a few paces behind, wringing her hands nervously. The rain had intensified and night was falling fast, bad news for any trails they could follow. Varric reacted first, immediately questioning Lissa for any information he could use to find Leandra. Fenris pushed the mess of his emotions to the side as the gravity of the situation sunk in, all but running to his chambers to dress in armor. Leandra had mothered all of Hawke's companions, and Fenris was no exception. Food, clothing, even the occasional maternal advice came from her, and Fenris wasn't about to let his friend's- lover's?- mother fall victim to the curse that haunted Kirkwall. She already lost her father and her brother, Leandra wasn't adding to Hawke's list of family to mourn. 

They met Gamlen in Lowtown, just outside the Hanged Man. "No one has seen her, Lissa. Would you please tell me what the lillies mean? If she's really in danger then-" Hawke put her hand up to Gamlen to hush him, trying to think. DuPuis. He could track Leandra, like he'd been doing to find the one killing the young women.

"Go home, uncle. I'll handle this," she ordered, and Gamlen could tell by her tone to listen. Varric followed Lissa's train of thought, coming to a similar conclusion.

"DuPuis, right? He's in Darktown, last I heard. Merrill, can you find him once we're down there?" He was trying to think of any connections he had in Darktown that could help, but he was coming up empty. DuPuis was teh only choice.

Merrill nodded, replying "His magic is unrefined and it tastes terrible, he's easy to track." Fenris didn't know who DuPuis was, nor why they were going to a mage for help, but he kept his mouth shut. Now wasn't the time to question Hawke on her choice of methods. 

DuPuis, Fenris came to find, was a blood mage, living in squalor in Darktown. He needed Lissa's blood for the ritual to track Leandra apparently, which was dangerous. If he tried to use it against her... "If we had her blood, I'd use it, but if you're related directly I can use yours," the man explained, noting Fenris' displeasure. Fenris didn't like the way his gaze stayed on the floor, how his hands twitched. He seemed guilty. Lissa pricked her pinkie finger with a dagger and dripped the blood into DuPuis' hands, a few droplets apparently enough. The taste of the blood magic in the air was disgusting to him, his markings twinging with pain at the familiarity of the spell. He'd seen Danarius use it before, and it wasn't pleasant then either. "I've got her," DuPuis announced, and Lissa was surprised to hear that she was in the abandoned foundry nearby.

"Gascard," Hawke said as they left, "If she's not alive when we get there, your ass is on the line."

 

* * *

 

 It was a desolate place, the foundry. Their was an aura about it that made Hawke's skin crawl, more than Darkdown usually did. What got to her more than anything was the silence. Nowhere in Kirkwall was truly quiet- there was always something rustling somewhere, a rat or an urchin or something in between. But in the dank, oppressive quiet there was nothing to hide the sound of their boots on the gravelly stone, and nothing to pull Hawke from her thoughts.  _"What if she's hurt, what if she's dead already? Or if there's no one there, and we just find her body? If there_ is  _no body? Mother, oh, I can't lose her too-"_ Fenris cleared his throat as they entered another room, drawing her attention to their surroundings. "What, Fen?" She looked up from her boots at him, then followed his gaze. They had entered what seemed to be a shrine. A sickening one, at that.

"You can't make this shit up," Varric breathed, and Merrill swallowed nervously. Scattered around the room were ragged pieces of furniture, all facing a large wooden altar decorated in ribbons and flowers- calla lilies. Framed by intricate metalworking was a huge portrait of a woman who looked strikingly like Leandra- Lissa's stomach twisted in fear. If this was a shrine to a woman, then her mother... if that kidnapper had touched her in any way, she'd flay him alive. 

"Bluebell!" Varric called from a far corner, catching Lissa's attention. "You need to see this." He was standing over a body wrapped in a soiled sheet, dirt and blood stains soaking through the yellowing fabric. He'd pulled back the sheet, showing the face of a younger woman who looked a bit like the woman in the painting, but not as much as Leandra. She was, however, missing her arms. Merrill gasped when she saw it, and Lissa felt bile in her throat. DuPuis, Varric noticed, didn't seemed surprised.

"This is sickening," Fenris growled, taking the words out of Lissa's mouth. "We need to keep moving." Lissa agreed with him, and she hurried the group on. Varric had begun to pick up on DuPuis' behavior, pulling Fenris to the side as Hawke ushered Merrill and DuPuis on through the foundry.

"He's up to something," the dwarf murmured, and Fenris nodded. "Keep an eye on him. If this all goes tits up, you cover Hawke, I'll watch Daisy." They caught up when Hawke threw back a sharp glance, jerking her head for them to hurry.

They were about to turn down a hallway when Merrill froze, her ears quivering. "Someone's here," she hissed, drawing her staff and turning to one of the doors nearby.

Hawke readied her bow and took off in the direction Merrill indicated, the rest of the party following quickly behind. What Hawke saw when she burst into the room made her skid to a stop, her eyes flitting to an operating table. There was a body on it, facing away towards the wall, and an older man with greying hair was hunched over it.

"Where is she?!" Hawke demanded, her voice almost screeching.

"She?" The man asked, turning to face Lissa, blood on his cheeks, "You'll have to be more specific dear."

Hawke stepped closer, her knuckles white around her bow. "My mother. Leandra Hawke."

The man nodded, tilting his head towards the table. "She's here, dear. And quite well alive. Ah, Gascard! Good to see you could make it," he acknowledged DuPuis as he entered the room, and Hawke bristled. Of course they knew each other.

"Quentin," DuPuis scowled, "I should have known you were behind this." He pushed his way to the front of the group to stand by Lissa, who was eyeing him very warily by that point. Quentin surveyed his situation, noting that he was drastically outnumbered, and decided that wouldn't do.

"Gascard, my boy, you were all too eager to learn necromancy before, I see now that you are more than worthy of learning my secrets. You're so powerful that you could find me. I shall teach you how to create a masterpiece of your own if you come back to me," he offered, gesturing to the operating table. Hawke took a step away from Gascard, realizing that the situation was about to deteriorate, and her party took her cue. DuPuis' eyes flitted between Hawke and Quentin; he settled on Hawke. She was ready when his staff blade whipped towards her, but she wasn't ready for the arc of lighting that shot from Quentin's focii. In the rush of it all, Varric managed to put three bolts into DuPuis' neck, Fenris tackled Hawke to the ground, and Merrill got a barrier up just in time to stop Quentin's desire demons from setting them all on fire. Hawke blinked, pinned under Fenris' surprising bulk (she always forgot he was heavy, his height was deceiving), and she realized he'd just saved her from a very nasty attack.

"Fenris?" She caught his attention as the rose, taking his hand as he helped her stand. "Thank you." Her tone was earnest, and he squeezed her hand before they split back into the fight. 

Quentin hadn't realized Merrill was a blood mage, or that she was powerful enough to stop his curses. He also neglected to take Fenris' markings into account, Varric's excellent aim, and Hawke's pure, unadulterated rage. He was on the ground in minutes.

"Now," Hawke growled as she stood over Quentin, her boot driving into his neck, "You tell me what you did to her."

Fenris stood behind her, his markings suppressing Quentin's magic, watching a drop of blood trail from a small head wound down her neck. It quivered, and Fenris increased the energy into his tattoos until it stung. The blood returned to its normal path. With a sigh of defeat, Quentin cast his gaze to the table.

"She is my Maya now, my dear wife. Imagine my pleasure at seeing her face in the markets, at hearing something so much like her melodious voice! I got to see her one last time before I died, and now we will die together, as it should have been. Not with her withering away while I rot in the Starkhaven Circle. Do what you will to me." Hawke was about to crush his neck when a breathy voice called to her- it originated from the operating table. Lissa looked to Fenris with watering eyes, her orders simple.

"Keep him here. I need to see Mother."

 

* * *

 

 

"Mother? Leandra?" Hawke gently rolled the body on the table over, pulling the satin sheet that covered it away. She beckoned Merrill over with one hand, hoping her magic could keep Leandra alive for a few moments longer. The eyes that greeted her were silver and clouded, not the clear blue that mirrored Lissa's.

"My dear songbird," Leandra choked out, weakly reaching for Lissa's hand. It wasn't Leandra's hand that Hawke held; it was from another woman, the stitches at her wrist straining against the movement. Lissa felt the tears on her face, angrily blinking them away to keep her vision from blurring. "I- I have never been more proud, Lissa. You-" Leandra took a rattling breath, more wheezing than anything- she was slipping fast. "You have always made me proud. I love you." The pressure in Lissa's hand started to fade, her eyes unfocusing, and Merrill began to panic. She was doing everything she could to keep Leandra alive, but Hawke held a hand out, stopping her friend.

"She's gone, Merrill." Hawke was calmer now, but her shoulders were tense. Varric knew that look, and he didn't like it. Lissa was rarely truly quiet. Fenris stepped to the side as Lissa drew a dagger from her hip, but he stayed close while she knelt to face Quentin. She rested the tip of the blade between his eyes, then spoke in a tone that could cut steel. "I'm going to be very clear here. You killed my mother, and you ruined what was the last shred of family I have. My sister is stuck in the Gallows, my father is dead, my brother is dead. I have the family I made though, and you met three of them. This one is Fenris, and he has something special to show you. He can rip out hearts." Fenris raised an eyebrow, but he didn't question it when Hawke stood, dragging Quentin up and pinning him against a wall. The older man was frail. The elf narrowed his eyes at Quentin, one hand phasing into the odd, shimmering blue that accompanied his tattoos' full power. "Squeeze him a little. I'm going to kill him," Lissa said, a sneer on her face.

Fenris obliged, plunging his hand into the man's chest and grasping at the pulsating muscle within. Quentin may have thought his life was over, but this was an entirely new level of pain- he couldn't make a sound. Hawke watched intently for a few more seconds as he writhed in agony, then gently put a hand on Fenris' arm.

"That will do. Thank you, Fenris." The warrior released Quentin, letting him fall to the ground, and Lissa nudged him passively with her boot. "Goodbye, Quentin. I hope your victims find you in the Fade." She raised her foot and brought it down hard on his neck, the muscles giving way under the heavy leather. The sound was satisfying, a soft crunch coupled with the splash of blood gushing out, and she ground her foot against his spine for good measure. Merrill and Varric were staring at her when she finally turned around, their expressions a bit... scared.

"Uh. Bluebell? You uh, you okay? Wanna get a drink?" Varric finally broke the silence as they left the foundry, a fire started by Merrill burning the evidence that anything had ever occurred there.

"No," Hawke replied, her tone short. "I want to go to bed." Varric tilted his head in acknowledgement, and they continued on in silence. Merrill split off to the alienage soon after, leaving Hawke with a hug and orders to stay warm.

It was raining again when Varric departed to his room, and he wondered if leaving Lissa and Fenris alone was a good idea. "Take care of her, Broody."

It was a slow walk up to Hightown, and when they finally stopped at the door to the Amell manor, the dam holding back Hawke's emotions broke. "I can't go back in there, Fenris," she gasped, almost jerking away from the door. "I can't face Bodahn and Sandal and her room and- and-" she hiccuped, muffling a wail into her gloves. Fenris was taken aback by the display, unsure of how to help. He couldn't leave her crying like this, and the sight of her breaking down was enough to make his heart feel... indescribably broken.  He pondered a solution for a moment, and came to the worst (best) idea he'd ever had.

"Lissa," he rumbled, placing an arm around her shoulders, "You can stay with me." 

 


	15. Forget-me-Not Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's happening folks. Not the smut, but something.

Hawke was sitting cross-legged and wrapped in a heavy quilt in front of the fire, a steaming cup of chamomile tea in her hands, armor abandoned in a soaking pile in the foyer. She'd been shocked into compliance by Fenris' offer, though now she couldn't complain. She didn't speak at all, and Fenris said relatively little- there wasn't much to say. Fenris settled next to her, his legs stretched out, enjoying the warmth the fire provided. They both needed to dry off from the rain, and there was something comforting about being together that had remained unspoken. Their feud from the week before was long forgotten; Lissa didn't know that Fenris knew of their history together, but she noticed a distinct change in his behavior. He still wouldn't meet her eyes, but it seemed to originate more from embarrassment than anger. In fact, she frequently caught him staring at her, only to have him glance away, red faced. It was enough of a distraction to keep her away from thoughts of her mother.  _Mother._

"I can't believe she's gone," Hawke mumbled, her eyes watering again, a knot forming in her throat. "It's my fault. I was home all day and I didn't even know she was  _gone._ and it's permanent now. I- how could I let that happen? What am I supposed to tell Bethany? That it's my fault she died, just like Carver?" Fenris shook his head, finally turning to face her.

"I don't have an answer for you. I'm not sure what to say; I know you're looking for forgiveness, but I'm not the one who can give it." His words were heavy, but they were true. Lissa appreciated the honesty more than any empty comfort. "I suppose not. But you're here, and that's more than I could have asked for." Lissa seemed at peace for the moment. They turned their attention back to their own minds, and the room was quiet once more but for the rain and the fire.

"Fenris?" Lissa mumbled, taking a small sip of her tea.

"Hm?" He didn't take his eyes off of the fire, but he knew she was watching him. He could feel it.

"Why are you being so nice to me all of the sudden? I thought you were supposed to be killing me."

Fenris did look at her then, a perplexed expression on his face. "Lissa, that's the stupidest question you've ever asked," he replied, deadpan.

She frowned at him, eyes narrowing. "No it's not. Fuck you." She grumbled something unintelligible, slouching deeper into the quilt. Fenris sighed, letting his head fall back to look at the ceiling, hair falling out of his face. He pondered his reply, unsure of how to continue, then took a shot in the dark.

"Because I may actually care about how you feel. A lot. More than I care about most everything." He decided to be candid, figuring that at this point, Hawke was too emotionally raw to really do anything.

"Huh," was all she replied, her gaze fixating on her mug.  A few more minutes of silence passed, the crackling fire filling the empty space. "I care about you too, Fen. Maybe too much," Lissa confessed, though it was directed at the floor. Fenris was still staring at the ceiling, counting the wooden beams that ran parallel across the room. 

"Will you stay with me?" Lissa asked, and Fenris almost missed the question.

"Stay with you?" He didn't understand what she meant, not entirely.

"Yes. Through this, through Kirkwall. Come what may, please, will you stay with me? I don't know if I could- if I'd even _want_ to keep fighting if it'd be without you. Those months when you were gone, Fenris, they were so hard. I'm so sorry I let that happen." She didn't care if Fenris knew of their love or not, if he even loved her anymore. In the peace of the moment, Lissa couldn't imagine ever living without him, and the guilt of losing her mother was spilling over onto the guilt she had at letting Fenris be stolen away.

"Liss," Fenris breathed, the syllable rolling off of his tongue before he could stop it, "It would take more than the world to make me leave." As he said the words, Fenris remembered something vividly; it took Danarius himself to drag Fenris away from her. It took them all near death, it took the threat of Lissa's murder to take him away from her. "I said I couldn't offer forgiveness for Leandra's death, but I can forgive you for something else." He moved closer to Lissa, in her personal space now. She let the quilt fall away, her physical barrier slumping as her emotional one did, and she didn't move away from him. "I gave myself up so that you could live. I made that decision, Lissa, not you. That is not your burden to bear."

Lissa clasped her hands together, a quick intake of air signalling her surprise. "How do you remember that?" She asked, and he shrugged.

"It comes back in bits and pieces. It started after we met, but it's been better since we entered the Fade. Whatever happened there, it's wearing away at the magic Danarius used to wipe my memories of Kirkwall." It was the only theory he could come up with, and Lissa seemed satisfied. She took the opportunity of his closeness to lean over, resting her head on his shoulder. Fenris moved to support her, not questioning the gesture. It felt familiar, and he'd been craving her presence since their argument. 

 

* * *

 

 

"Can we try something stupid?" Hawke asked after a time, her hands nervously balling into fists. Her exhaustion was making her bold, and Lissa couldn't bring herself to sleep without asking at least once.

"I don't see why not," Fenris replied, humoring her.

"You have to promise you'll try it. It's to help with your memories." Lissa was nervous, he could hear it in her voice. 

Fenris cocked his head to the side, confused when she lifted her head from his shoulder. "I can make no such promise, but I will, within reason, try what you suggest."

Lissa rolled her eyes at his caution, then took a deep breath. Fenris could almost hear the words, the way she stared at his lips, the way hers parted softly- he didn't want to wait any longer. It was a simple matter to catch her off guard, mid-breath as she was about to start a sentence; he merely leaned forward, one hand cupping her face, and guided her lips to his. She was soft, as soft and sweet as he remembered. Maker, did he remember her kisses, how they sent sparks down his spine and thoughts spinning wildly through his head. This one was better, months of waiting summed up into a simple moment. It felt like love, and in the middle of the night, her family slipping so far away, it was exactly what Hawke needed.


	16. Bedside Manner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean, look at the title, people. (NSFW, but not sex, not quiiite yet.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had the draft of this chapter written since December. 
> 
> "Deliciae meae" : my dear/my dove (I was going to use oscen, for songbird, but that's what leandra says and that'd be weird)

"If you don't stop," Lissa gasped, her head arching back as Fenris' lips traveled down her neck, "I'm not going to be responsible for my actions." She tightened her embrace around him as he sucked at the skin just above her collarbone, drawing another breathy moan from her lips. She'd forgotten how fond he was of leaving his mark on her. Lissa was struggling to think clearly, their soft kiss by the fireside igniting the desire that had hidden in the dark corners of Hawke's mind since Fenris had returned. _'He obviously feels the same,'_ she mused as Fenris claimed her lips in another deep kiss, the gentle glow of his tattoos sending prickles across her skin. He finally pulled back, shifting to rest on one arm. Lissa, now straddling his waist, was silhouetted against the fire, painting a picture he wanted to commit to memory.

"And if I don't want you to be responsible for your actions?" He asked slyly, a smirk crossing his face. Lissa bit her lip, debating if she should take her shirt off first or his. She settled on hers.

"Then this is all your fault," she purred, pulling her undershirt over her head and tossing it to the side, only her breastband remaining. Fenris chuckled, leaning back up and letting his hands slide around her waist. Her skin was radiating heat, and he recalled a ticklish spot along her rib cage, near a small birthmark. His hands wandered across her back, tracing scars, his fingertips just ghosting along her spine. He wondered how someone so powerful in battle could be so... delicate. She reminded him of a bird, honestly, not just because of her name. She was like a hawk (the thought made him laugh), exacting, intimidating, but light and fragile under his touch. If he just... squeezed, he feared she'd shatter. 

"I can live with that." 

Lissa moved under his touch, pressing against his chest as she gently traced the cuff of his ear with her lips. Elven ears, she knew from much practice, were extremely sensitive, and Fenris had a sweet spot. She pushed one hand under his shirt and let her fingers rest on his hip, the other hand just barely touching his jaw. She tilted his head to the side, surprised that he acquiesced so easily, and flicked her tongue against the very tip of his ear, earning a shudder for her efforts. Fenris' grip tightened around her as she blew a cool breath over the spot, and she swore he nearly snapped her in half when she nipped there. She giggled at his reaction, earning his protest.

"You have me at a disadvantage, Lissa. You know my weaknesses, but I don't remember yours," Fenris rumbled, pulling his shirt off and leaving it in a bundled mess. Lissa grinned, eyes sparkling with what Fenris could only hope was mischief, and she splayed her fingers over his chest. 

"Oh, you'll figure them out, I don't doubt," She smirked, and he rolled his eyes- he did remember one thing. 

"You're evil," Fenris growled, then surprised her by rolling them over and pinning her hands above her head. "Shame on you." Lissa sucked in a sharp breath, straining slightly against his grasp, but she didn't fight it too much. The carpet was thick and cool beneath her, a welcome feeling against her skin. His hips rolled against hers, the sensation shooting up her spine and setting fireworks off behind her eyes. It had been so long since she'd felt him, since it had been anything but her own hands, that the anticipation made everything better. Lissa watched his markings flare from the movement, the lyrium shimmering. She remembered how it hurt him before and her face changed, something Fenris noticed.

"What bothers you?" He asked, lifting his hold on her hands to cup her face gently.

Lissa nuzzled into his touch, her words worried. "I know your markings cause you discomfort. If you- if there's any pain, please, tell me." Fenris stilled completely, his lips parted as if to reply, but nothing came to mind. Her concern resonated with him, stirring feelings in his heart that were deeper than lust. He pulled her close to him, sitting face to face now, and kissed her forehead gently. She quirked her head to the side, confused by his sudden seriousness, wondering if she said something wrong.

"Deliciae meae, you never stop giving your heart, do you?" Fenris whispered against her skin. He was filled with the desire to hold her close, less now out of hunger for contact and more due to the upwelling of warmth in his chest that threatened his eyes with tears. "You need rest."

Lissa was stunned into silence by the Tevene; he'd only called her that once before, holding her as she grieved the broken body of a young girl they'd failed to save from the underbelly of Darktown. She took his hand as he helped her up, grabbing the quilt as an afterthought. Fenris led them up the stairs and down a dark hall, Lissa following the path she knew led to his sleeping quarters. The room was much as she remembered it, illuminated in the fire Fenris was starting, though the bedding was new. She recalled how he was transfixed by the deep blue pattern, gold embroidery spinning intricate stars constellations between geometric patterns, and gratefully collapsed onto the mattress. Exhaustion rolled over her in waves as the soft blankets cradled her, drawing a heavy sigh from her lips. The events of the day began to snake their way back into her mind, threatening to drag her back into bottomless sorrow. 

Fenris heard a sniffle from the bed and knew Lissa was about to start crying again; she had every right to. He left the fire, satisfied with it, and joined Lissa on the bed. She'd tucked herself in by now and was face down in a pillow, her shoulders shaking. "I'm going to die in this stupid city," she hiccuped, "just like everyone else. All that's here is death and sadness." 

"Liss, Lissa. Come here." He gathered her in his arms and pulled her close, letting her nuzzle into his shoulder. "You're going to be alright, Lissa. I swear it. I will always be here to protect you."

"Thank you, Fen. I-"

She almost said the words. Love was on the tip of her tongue, but something stopped her. Lissa trusted him, yes, but... she wasn't sure. Something felt off, deep in her stomach. Last time, she'd said it first, but this time she chose to wait for him. "I'd be lost without you," she finished, pushing the thought out of her mind.

Sleep came quickly, the two wrapped in each other's arms, finally free of the empty feeling that had haunted their beds. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I know Lissa cries a lot, but she's a very passionate person and she just can't help it. I know I cry all the time and I don't feel like people let their characters cry enough.


	17. Unwelcome Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go bump in the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet, I promise the next one will be longer.

Lissa's eyes snapped open. She'd heard _something_ and she didn't like it. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and more importantly, why she was there. She expected Fenris to be at her side, curled around her like he was so fond of, but there was no other presence in the bed. That was a bad sign. Rousing, Lissa rubbed the sand from her eyes and listened, knowing from her gut feeling that there was a problem. The door to Fenris' bedroom was shut, but there were muffled voices nearby; she recognized one as Fenris, but the other sounded distinctly Tevene and very angry. Knowing that meant danger, Lissa recalled one of her old back-up plans. It was born of paranoia, but she'd taken the liberty of hiding blades around the homes of her friends in case of an emergency. Sitting in Fenris' bed in nothing but a soft cotton shirt and her smallclothes with an angry Vint outside certainly counted as an emergency. She quietly slipped over to the closet, stretching onto the tips of her toes and running her hand along the top shelf- neither her nor Fenris were tall enough to see up there, but Lissa could just barely reach the dagger she'd stashed. Grabbing the dagger and wrapping herself in one of the blankets, Lissa peaked out of the door to assess the situation.

 

* * *

  

Fenris had tried incredibly hard not to wake Hawke when he'd heard the door to his manor open. He knew there was only one person it could be at this hour- Danarius' lieutenant, and he'd likely be coming with the intent to kill. The elf kicked himself when he realized he'd left his armor and his blade in the foyer to dry alongside Lissa's. This left them unarmed, and Fenris had to seriously consider a way to take out the 13 of Danarius' men he knew of and the many more likely hiding; nothing was coming to mind.  _'Then again,'_ Fenris thought,  _'I could talk my way out of this.'_ If he pitched the idea to Danarius' men that this a way to capture Lissa alive, to take her to Danarius as a gift more valuable than her head, they might buy it and give him time to work out a proper plan. The intruder met Fenris at the top of the stairwell, the long hall to the bedroom empty and dark. 

"We know she's here. You're fooling no one, Fenris. Danarius sent us along as insurance, but out of a meager respect for you that I really shouldn't have, I'm giving you one last chance to take her down before we do." He was absolute about the decision; Fenris had no room to argue, but he couldn't falter this time. Every meeting between him and Danarius' agents had led to the feeling of freedom slipping away from his grasp, but that helplessness never came this time. No, Fenris was bolstered by the challenge, by the lingering feeling of Lissa in his arms, the taste of freedom so delectable on her lips. He could fix this.

"Do you think he would enjoy her alive more than dead?" Fenris proposed, carefully leveling his gaze. The agent raised an eyebrow, settling back into a less hostile stance.

"Perhaps. What do you have in mind?"

"She is asleep in my chambers, none the wiser. She trusts me, and if you attack her now, there will be half of Kirkwall after you. But if you wait for me to take her somewhere obscure, somewhere hidden, we can steal away with her and have her halfway to Tevinter before anyone realizes she hasn't returned. The woman's mother is dead, her resolve is already half broken." The words came out convincingly, his voice unwavering, but Fenris still hated to say them. They twisted in his stomach, but it was for a better cause. 

The man frowned, arms crossed. It was quite possible Fenris was lying, but on the same token, bringing Hawke in alive would be worth a great deal. And if he could chain Fenris just before they arrived, make it seem like they both rebelled, it would more than enough for a reward, perhaps even a promotion of status in Tevinter. 

"Fair enough. Let us see what she thinks."

"Fenris?" Lissa called, wrapped up in a blanket as she walked into the hallway. Danarius' lieutenant cast his gaze past Fenris to the young woman, a smirk crossing his face as he gestured to the woman. Fenris realized Lissa had probably heard most of the conversation, her face a mixture of hurt and utter betrayal. He knew he had one shot to make it right. 

'Lissa,' Fenris mouthed, taking advantage of the lieutenant's distraction, 'Trust me.'

He glowed blue, reaching to rip out the agent's heart, but the man was already moving. The ball was in Lissa's court, and she had to act quickly.

 

* * *

  

Lissa perched on the precipice of a decision. She's heard Fenris sell her out, cruel and cold. He had stood there, nonchalant, and offered her to Danarius as a plaything. But he asked for her trust still, earnest fear on his face. He had been so gentle, so kind the night before, caring for her in a way she'd tried to forget. _"Deliciae meae."_

 

She trusted him.

 

* * *

 

The man drew his sword in a flash, pushing Fenris out of the way and rushing towards Hawke, assuming she'd be unarmed. Lissa dropped the heavy quilt and revealed her dagger, parrying the blow and kicking her assailant hard in the stomach. Pain spiked up her bare foot at the impact against armor, but she wasted no time in sliding the blade that fell from his hand towards Fenris, who grabbed it and quickly helped her corner the man, putting himself between the her and the slaver. Any doubts that Lissa had about Fenris' motivations were cleared up by his behavior, immediately protective of her, and she felt a sensation of relief begin to bubble up under the adrenaline of the fight.

"Don't touch her," Fenris hissed, the whole hallway now lit blue by his tattoos.

"Oh," the man grinned, "I won't. But good luck with the men outside."

 

 


End file.
